Chapter II: Part 2

The woman, one of those called gallant, was famous for her precocious embonpoint which had earned her the nickname of "Boule de Suif" (ball of tallow). Short and rotund all over, fat enough to supply lard, with puffed fingers constricted at the joints and looking like strings of small sausages, a shiny and tight skin, an enormous bust which protruded from under her gown, she was yet attractive and much coveted, her fresh appearance being pleasant to look at. Her face was like a red apple, a peony bud, ready to bloom forth; and in the upper part of her face, two magnificent black eyes, shaded by large thick lashes which cast a shadow into them; in the lower part, a charming mouth, narrow, moist, ripe for kisses, and furnished with white and microscopic teeth.

Moreover she was said to be full of invaluable qualities.

As soon as she was recognized, whispers circulated among the respectable women and the words: "hussy", "public scandal" were spoken so loud that she raised her head. Then she turned on her neighbors such a challenging and haughty look, that a great silence fell on the company and they all lowered their eyes except Loiseau, who kept on watching her with an exhilarated air.

But soon the conversation was resumed between the three ladies, whom the presence of this girl had suddenly made friends, almost intimates. It seemed to them that they should form a sort of "fasces" of their conjugal dignities in the presence of this shameless mercenary; for legalized love always looks down on its free brother.

The three men, also drawn closer by an instinct of conservation at the sight of Cornudet, spoke of money matters with an expression of contempt for the poor. Count Hubert related the damage done to his property by the Prussians, the losses that would result from their stealing of a tenfold millionaire grand Seigneur whom such reverses would hardly incommodate for one year. Mr. Carré-Lamadon, who had suffered serious losses in his cotton business, had taken the precaution of sending six hundred thousand francs to England, a provision for rainy days which would enable him to meet emergencies. As to Loiseau, he had found a way of selling to the French Quartermaster's Office all the low grade wines he had in stock, so that the Government owed him a tremendous sum, which he expected to cash in time at Havre.

And all three cast at each other quick and friendly glances. Although belonging to different social sets, they felt united in the brotherhood of money, the great freemasonry of those who possess, who jingle gold when they put their hands in the pockets of their trousers.

The coach was making such slow headway that at ten o'clock A. M. they had traveled only four leagues. The men got off three times and walked up the hills. They began to feel uneasy, because they expected to have luncheon in Tôtes and now there was hardly any possibility of getting there before night. Each was watching to find an inn on the road, when the coach foundered in a snow-drift, and it took two hours to extricate it.

Appetites grew and spirits fell; no road-house, no wine dealer could be discovered, the approach of the Prussians and the passage of the starving French troops having frightened away all the trades-people.

The men went to the farmhouses by the roadside to look for food but they did not even find bread, for the suspicious peasants had hidden away their reserve of provisions for fear of being pillaged by the soldiers who, having nothing to eat, were taking forcibly what they discovered.

Toward one o'clock in the afternoon Loiseau announced that positively he felt a big hollow in his stomach. All of them had been suffering like him for a long time, and the violent craving for food, growing steadily had killed off the conversations.

From time to time one of them yawned, another imitated him instantly; and each, in turn, according to his character, manners and social position, opened his mouth noisily or modestly holding his hand before the gaping hole from which breath steamed out.

Boule de Suif stooped several times as if looking for something under her petticoats. She hesitated a second, looked at her neighbors and the straightened herself up quietly. Faces were pale and drawn. Loiseau said that he would pay one thousand francs for a knuckle of ham. His wife made a gesture as if to protest, then she became calm. She always suffered when she heard of money being squandered, and did not even understand jokes on that subject. "As a matter of fact, I don't feel well, said the Count; why did I not think of taking provisions with me?"--Every one was reproaching himself with the same omission.

Cornudet, however, had a pocket bottle of rum; he offered some to his companions; they refused coldly. Loiseau alone accepted a few drops, and when he returned the bottle, he thanked: "It is good, all the same! it warms you up and it cheats the appetite."--The drink put him in good humor and he proposed that they should do as on the small boat in the song: "eat the fattest of the passengers." This indirect allusion to Boule de Suif shocked the well-bred passengers. There was no response. Cornudet alone smiled. The two good Sisters had ceased to mumble their rosary, and with their hands thrust down in their wide sleeves, they held themselves motionless, obstinately lowering their eyes and doubtless offering up as a sacrifice to God the suffering He had sent them.

At last, at three o'clock, as they were still in the middle of an interminable plain, without any village in sight, Boule de Suif bent down quickly and from under her seat pulled out a large basket covered with a white napkin.

She drew out first a small earthen plate, a fine silver drinking cup, then a large pot in which two whole chickens, carved in pieces, had stewed in their own gravy; and one could further see in the basket other good things wrapped up, pastry, fruit, delicacies, provisions prepared for a three days' trip, so that the traveler would not have to touch the food in the inns. The neck of four bottles emerged from among the food packages. She took the wing of a chicken and, began to eat it delicately with one of those small rolls which in Normandy are called "Régence."

All the eyes were attracted in her direction. Then the appetizing smell filled the coach, making the nostrils dilate and mouths water, while the jaws under the ears contracted painfully. The contempt of the ladies for this girl was becoming ferocious, developing into a desire to kill her or throw her, with her drinking cup, her basket and her provisions, out of the coach on the snow.

All the while, Loiseau had been devouring with his eyes the pot of chicken. He said:--"Well, well, the lady has been more provident than all of us! There are persons who always manage to think of everything."--She raised her head towards him:--"Would you like some, Sir?" "It is hard to fast since morning--" And looking around him he added:--"In moments like this, one is glad to find obliging people."

He had a newspaper which he unfolded on his knees in order not to soil his trousers, and with the point of a knife, which he always carried in his pocket, he picked a leg thoroughly varnished with jelly, bit it off and chewed it with such evident relish, that there arose in the coach a heavy sigh of distress.

Boule de Suif, with a humble and gentle voice, proposed to the good Sisters to share her luncheon. They both accepted instantly and, without raising their eyes, began to eat very fast, after having muttered a few words of thanks. Neither did Cornudet decline the offer of his neighbor, and with the nuns, they improvised a sort of table by unfolding newspapers on their knees.

Mouths were opening and closing constantly, swallowing, chewing, gulping ferociously. Loiseau in his corner was very busy eating, and in a low voice was urging his wife to imitate him. She resisted for a long time, but, after a cramp, which ran through her stomach, she yielded. Then her husband, rounding his sentences, asked their "charming companion" whether she would allow him to offer a small piece to Madame Loiseau. She replied:--"Why, certainly, Sir!"--with an amiable smile, and held out the terrine. An embarrassment occurred when the first bottle of claret was opened: there was only one drinking cup. They passed it around after wiping it each time. Cornudet alone, no doubt in a spirit of gallantry, put his lips on the spot which was still moist from the lips of his neighbor.

Then, surrounded by people who were eating, suffocated by the emanations of the food, Count and Countess de Bréville, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Carré-Lamadon, were suffering from that torture which has perpetuated the name of Tantalus. All at once the manufacturer's young wife heaved a sigh which caused every one to turn and look at her; she was as white as the snow outside; her eyes closed, her head fell forward, and she fainted. Her husband, alarmed, was imploring everybody's help. All lost their heads, but the oldest of the two Nuns holding in her arm the head of the unconscious lady, slipped between her lips the drinking cup of Boule de Suif and made her swallow a few drops of wine. The pretty lady moved, opened her eyes, smiled and declared in a dying voice that she felt better. However, to prevent a recurrence of the fainting, the Nun obliged her to drink a full cup of claret, and she added:--"It is just hunger, and nothing else."

Then Boule de Suif, blushing and embarrassed, stammered, looking at the four passengers who had not yet broken their fast:--"Mon Dieu!, if I ventured to offer these ladies and gentlemen?" She stopped short, thinking she had hurt their feelings. Loiseau began to speak: "Well, by Jove! in cases like this, we are all brothers and sisters and must help each other. Come, ladies, no ceremony! accept what is offered; what the devil! do we even know whether we are going to find a house to shelter us during the night? At the rate at which we are traveling, we shall not be in Tôtes before to-morrow noon." They hesitated, none daring to assume the responsibility of saying "Yes."

But the Count settled the question. He turned to the intimidated fat girl and assuming his grand aristocratic tone, he said to her:--"We accept gratefully, Madame."

The first step only costs. Once the Rubicon crossed, they ate heartily. The basket was emptied. It still contained one paté de foie gras, one paté de mauvette, a piece of smoked ham, Crassane pears, a Pont-l'Evêque cheese, assorted petits-fours, and a cup full of pickled gherkins and onions, Boule de Suif, like all women, having a predilection for raw things.

One could not partake of the girl's provisions without speaking to her. Now then, they talked, first with some restraint, then, as she behaved very well, with more freedom. Mesdames de Bréville and Carré-Lamadon, who had great "savoir-faire," made themselves tactfully gracious. Specially the Countess showed that amiable condescension of great ladies whom no contact can sully, and she was charming. On the other hand, fat Madame Loiseau, who had the soul of a gendarme, remained distant, sullen, saying little but eating much.

Naturally they talked about the war. They told the horrible things done by the Prussians, the deeds of bravery of the French; and all these people, who were fleeing, paid homage to the courage of others. Personal experiences soon followed, and Boule de Suif, related with unaffected emotion, with that warmth of language often characteristic of girls of her class in expressing their natural feelings, how she had left Rouen:--"First I thought that I could stay," she said; "I had my house full of provisions, and I preferred to feed a few soldiers then expatriate myself and go God knows where. But when I saw them, the Prussians, it was too much for me, I could not stand it. They made my blood boil with rage; and I wept all day for very shame. Then some were billeted to my house; I flew at the throat of the first one who entered. And I would have fixed that one, if they had not pulled me away by the hair. After that, I had to hide. Finally I found an opportunity to go, I left, and here I am!"

She was warmly congratulated. She was rising in the esteem of her traveling companions, who had not shown themselves as fearless. And in listening to her, Cornudet had the approving and benevolent smile of an apostle, in the same way as a priest hears a devout person praise God, for long-bearded democrats have the monopoly of patriotism just as the men in cassocks have the monopoly of religion. He spoke, in his turn, with a dogmatic tone, with the declamatory emphasis learned from proclamations daily posted on the walls, and he winded up with a piece of eloquence in which he condemned masterfully that "scoundrel of Napoleon III."

But Boule de Suif became angry immediately because she was a partisan of the Bonapartes. She turned as red as a cherry and stuttering with indignation:--"I should have like to see you in his place, you and your friends! It would have been nice, oh yes! It is you who betrayed the poor man! If we were ruled by rascals like you, there would remain nothing else to do for us but leave France."--Impassive, Cornudet kept a superior and contemptuous smile, but one could feel that big words were impending, when the Count interposed and, not without some difficulty, calmed the exasperated girl by proclaiming authoritatively that all sincere opinions should be respected. However, the Countess and the wife of the Cotton manufacturer, who bore in their hearts the unreasoning hatred of all decent people for the Republic, and that predilection which all women have for the pomp of despotic Governments, felt irresistibly attracted toward this dignified prostitute whose opinions were very much like theirs.

The basket was empty. The ten of them had easily consumed its contents, regretting that it was not larger. The conversation continued for some time, though it flagged since they had finished eating.

The night was falling; darkness gradually grew deeper and deeper, and the cold, felt more during digestion, made Boule De Suif shiver notwithstanding her corpulence. Then Madame de Bréville offered her her foot-warmer, the coal of which had been renewed several times since the morning, and she accepted it willingly, for she felt her feet frozen. Mesdames Carré-Lamadon and Loiseau gave theirs to the Nuns.

The driver had lighted his lanterns. They threw a bright gleam on the cloud of vapor rising from the perspiring backs of the rear horses, and on both sides of the road the snow seemed to unroll under the mobile light of the lamps.

Nothing could be distinguished in the coach; suddenly there was a movement between Boule de Suif and Cornudet; and Loiseau, whose eyes scanned the darkness, through that he saw the long-bearded man jump up, as if he had received a noiseless but well aimed blow.

Tiny lights appeared ahead on the road. It was Tôtes. They had traveled eleven hours which, added to the hours of rest given in four times to the horses for feeding and breathing, made fourteen hours. They entered the town and the coach stopped in front of the Hotel du Commerce.

The door of the coach opened. A well known noise startled all the passengers; it was the clanging of a scabbard on the pavement. Then the voice of a German called out something.

Although the coach was at a standstill, nobody got off, as if they were expecting to be massacred the moment they left the coach. Then the driver appeared, holding in his hand one of his lanterns which suddenly lighted the interior of the coach and shoed two rows of frightened faces, whose mouths were agape and eyes wide open in surprise and terror.

Beside the driver, in full light, stood a German Officer, a tall young man, exceedingly thin and blond, laced in his uniform as tightly as a girl in her corset, and wearing tilted to one side his flat and waxed cap, which gave him the appearance of a porter in an English Hotel. His exaggerated mustache, long and straight, tapering indefinitely on both sides and ending in a single blond hair, so thin that the point could not be seen, seemed to weigh on the corners of his mouth and pulling down his cheeks, impressed on the lips a drooping fold.

In Alsatian French, he invited the travelers to alight, saying in a stiff tone:--"Will you please get off, ladies and gentlemen?"--

The two good Sisters obeyed first with the docility of holy women accustomed to submission. The Count and Countess appeared next, followed by the manufacturer and his wife, then Loiseau pushing in front of him his larger and better half.

Loiseau, as he got off, told the officer: "Good day, Sir!" prompted by a feeling of prudence much more than politeness. The Officer, insolent like all men holding absolute authority, stared at him and did not reply.

Boule de Suif and Cornudet, although near the door of the coach, were the last to alight, serious and dignified in the presence of the enemy. The corpulent girl was trying to control herself and be calm; the democrat, with a tragic and rather shaky hand, was tormenting his reddish beard. They wanted to maintain their dignity, being fully conscious of the fact that at such meetings each represents a little his country; and both equally revolted by the supineness of their companions, she tried to show herself more proud than her neighbors, the honest women, while he, realizing that he owed an example, continued in his whole attitude his mission of resistance, first assumed when he mined and destroyed the highways.

They entered the spacious kitchen of the inn, and the German, having called for and inspected the permit to leave Rouen signed by the General in Chief, in which were mentioned the names, description and profession of each traveler, examined them for a long while, comparing the persons with the written particulars.

He said abruptly: "All right!", and he disappeared.

Then they breathed freely. They were still hungry; supper was ordered. It required half an hour to prepare it; and while two servants were apparently engaged in getting it ready, the travelers went upstairs to have a look at their rooms. They were all in a long hall ending in a glazed door marked with a speaking number.

They were going to sit down to supper when the proprietor of the inn appeared. He was a former horse dealer, a stout, asthmatic man, always wheezing, coughing and clearing his throat. His father had transmitted him the name of Follenvie.

He inquired:

"Mademoiselle Elizabeth Rousset?"--Boule de Suif started; she turned around:

--"That is my name!"--

--"Mademoiselle, the Prussian Officer wants to speak to you immediately."

--"To me?"

--"Yes, if you are Mlle. Elizabeth Rousset?"

She became uneasy, reflected a moment, then declared squarely:--"That may be, but I shall not go."

There was a movement around her; each discussed and speculated as to the cause of this order. The Count came near her:

--"You are wrong, Madame, because your refusal might bring considerable trouble not only to you but also to all your traveling companions. We should never resist those who are the strongest. Assuredly your compliance with this order cannot involve any danger; no doubt you are wanted for some forgotten formality"--

All joined the Count in urging her, pressing her, lecturing her and finally they convinced her; for all of them dreaded complications which might result from insubordination on her part. At last she said:

--"I am doing this for your sake, don't forget it."

The Countess took her hand:

--"And we thank you for it."--

She went out. All waited for her return before they sat down at the table.

Each was sorry that he had not been called instead of that violent and irascible girl, and prepared mentally the platitudes he would utter in case he should be called in his turn.

But at the end of ten minutes, she came back, out of breath, red to suffocation, exasperated. She was stammering:--"Oh! la Canaille! la Canaille!"[*]

[*][Note from Brett: This translates, roughly, into "Oh! the rogue! the rogue!"]

All rushed up to her to find out what had happened, but she did not say anything, and as the Count was insisting, she replied with a great deal of dignity:--"No, it does not concern you; I cannot speak..."

Then they took their seats around a high soup tureen from which issued a smell of cabbage. In spite of this untoward incident, the supper was cheerful. The cider was good; the Loiseau couple and the Sisters drank of it by economy. the others ordered wine. Cornudet called for a bottle of beer. He had a peculiar way of uncorking the bottle, making the beer foam, examining it as he inclined his glass, which he then raised between the lamp and his eyes in order to appreciate better its color. While drinking, his long beard, that had kept the color of his favorite beverage, seemed to shake with joy; his eyes squinted in his effort not to lose sight of his glass, and he looked as if he were performing the only function for which he had been created. One would have thought that in his mind he established a relationship and a kind of affinity between the two great passions that occupied all his life: Pale Ale and Revolution; and certainly he could not taste the former without dreaming of the latter.

Mr. and Mrs. Follenvie were dining at the other end of the table, the man, rattling like a broken down locomotive, was too short winded to talk while eating; but the woman never kept silent. She told all her impressions on the arrival of the Prussians, what they did, what they said, execrating them first because they cost them money, and then because she had two sons in the Army. She spoke especially to the Countess, flattered at the opportunity of talking with a lady of quality.

Then she lowered her voice to broach delicate subjects, and her husband interrupted her now and then:--"You better hold your tongue, Madame Follenvie!"--But she did not pay any attention to his admonitions, and continued,

--"Yes, Madame, these people do nothing but eat potatoes and pork, and again pork and potatoes. And you must not think that they are clean. Oh, No, indeed not!--They soil and dirty everything, permit me the expression. And if you saw them drill for hours and days! they are all there, in a field, and march forward and march backward, and turn this way and turn that way. If at least they cultivated the land, or worked on the roads, in their country!--But no, Madame, these soldiers are good for nothing; what a pity that the poor people should toil and feed them and they should learn nothing but how to massacre!--I am only an uneducated old woman, it is true, but in seeing them wear themselves out by marching from morning till night, I say to myself:--"When there are so many people who make so many discoveries to serve the people, why should others take so much trouble to be harmful? Truly, is it not abominable to kill people, whether they are Prussians, or English, or Polish or French?--If you take revenge on somebody, who has wronged you, that is bad enough, because you are condemned to jail, but when our boys are exterminated like game, with guns, it must be all right, because decorations are given to the man who kills the most--No, indeed, I shall never be able to understand it."

Cornudet raised his voice:

--"War is barbarous when you attack a peaceful neighbor; it is a sacred duty when waged in defense of one's country."

The old woman lowered her head.

--"Yes in self-defense, it is another matter, but shouldn't we rather kill off all the Kings who go to war for their own pleasure?"

--Cornudet's eyes flashed:

--"Bravo, citoyenne[*]!" said he.

[*][Note from Brett: This translates, roughly, into "citizen"]

Mr. Carré-Lamadon was in deep meditation. Although a fanatical admirer of illustrious generals, the common sense of that peasant woman made him think of the opulence that would bring to a country so many hands now idle and necessarily ruinous, so many forces kept unproductive, if they were employed for the great industrial enterprises which, at the present pace, it would take centuries to complete.

But Loiseau, leaving his seat, went and spoke in a very low voice to the inn-keeper. The fat man was laughing, coughing, and expectorating. His enormous stomach shook with merriment at the jokes of his neighbor, and he bought from him six casks of claret to be delivered in the Spring, after the departure of the Prussians.

Hardly were they through with supper, they retired, as they were all tired out.

Loiseau, however, who had kept an eye on what was going on, send his wife to bed; then he pressed now his ear, now his eye to the keyhole in order to try and discover what he called "the mysteries of the hall."--

After about an hour, he heard a rustle, peeped out quickly and saw Boule de Suif, who looked still more corpulent in a blue cashmere dressing gown trimmed with white lace. She held a candle in her hand and made straight for the room at the other end of the hall bearing a conspicuous number. But a side-door opened, and when, after a few minutes, she came back, Cornudet, in his shirt-sleeves and suspenders, was following her. Boule de Suif seemed to deny him energetically admission to her room. Unfortunately Loisseau could not hear what they said, but in the end, as they raised their voices, he was able to catch a few words. Cornudet was insisting eagerly:

--"Come, now, you are silly! what does it matter to you?"--

She seemed indignant and replied:

--"No, my friend, there are times when we cannot do such things, and why, here, it would be a shame!"

Apparently, he failed to understand and asked why.--Then she became excited and speaking louder, she said:

--"Why? Don't you understand why? When Prussians are in the house, maybe in the next room?" He had a newspaper which he unfolded on his knees. A hussy who denied herself to the solicitations of a man while they were near the enemy, must have aroused in his heart his failing dignity, for, after having kissed her, he went back stealthily to his room.

Loiseau, quite excited, left the keyhole, and quickly jumped into the conjugal bed to seek solace near the hard carcass of his espoused.

Then the whole house became silent. But soon there arose from somewhere, from some indeterminate direction, which might have been the cellar as well as the attic, a powerful monotonous snore, a deep and prolonged noise, like the throbbing of a boiler under pressure--Mr. Follenvie was sleeping.

As it had been decided that they would start at eight o'clock the next morning, at that hour everybody was in the kitchen; but the coach, the hood of which formed a roof of snow, stood solitary in the middle of the yard, without horses and without driver. In vain a search was made for the latter in the stable, barns, and coach-house. Then all the men decided to scour the country, and they set out. They found themselves in the Square, with the Church at the farther end, and on both sides low houses in which Prussian soldiers could be seen. The first one they saw was peeling potatoes; further on, the second was washing the barber's shop. Another, bearded up to his eyes, was kissing a crying child and lulling him on his knees to quiet it; fat peasant women, whose husbands were "in the fighting army," were showing by the language of signs to their obedient conquerors the work they had to do: chop wood, prepare soup, grind coffee; one of them was even washing for his hostess, an impotent grandmother.

The Count, surprised, questioned the beadle who was coming out of the presbytery. The old Church rat replied:--"Oh, those here are not bad; they are not Prussians, according to what I hear. They come from farther off, I don't know exactly where; and they have all left wives and children at home; they are not so fond of war, I assure you; I am positive that over there they are mourning for their men; and war will cause them much distress, as it does us. Here at least we are not so badly off for the present, because the soldiers don't harm us and they work as if they were in their own houses. You see, Sir, we poor people, must help each other. It is the wealthy ones who make war."

Cornudet, indignant at the cordial understanding established between the conquerors and the conquered, went away, preferring to shut himself up in the inn. Loiseau cracked a joke: "They are re-peopling the country." Mr. Carré-Lamadon, more serious, interjected:--"They are repairing." But they could not find the driver. Finally they discovered him in the village Café, fraternizing and drinking with the orderly of the Prussian Officer. The Count interpolated:

--"Didn't you have orders to have the coach ready for eight o'clock?"

--"Oh yes, but I have received other orders since."

--"What orders?"

--"Not to harness the horses at all."

--"Who gave you that order?"

--"Upon my faith, the Prussian Commander."

--"Why?"

--"I don't know. Go and ask him. I am forbidden to harness the horses and I don't; that is all there is to it."

--"Did he tell you so himself?"

--"No. Sir, it is the inn-keeper that gave me the order for him."

--"When did he give it?"

--"Last night, just as I was going to bed!"

The three men became quite alarmed.

They called for Monsieur Follenvie, but the servant told them that on account of his asthma, that gentleman never got up before ten o'clock. He had even left formal orders not to wake him up earlier, except in case of fire.

They wanted to see the officer, but it was absolutely impossible, although he lodged in the inn. Mr. Follenvie only was authorized to speak to him about civil matters. Then they waited. The women went up to their rooms and got busy with their trifles.

Cornudet sat down and made himself comfortable in front of the high fireplace of the kitchen, in which a big fire was blazing. He had one of the small tables of the Café brought there, ordered a jug of beer, and drew out his pipe which, among the democrats, enjoyed a consideration almost equal to his own, as if it had served the country in serving Cornudet. It was a superb meerschaum pipe, admirably blackened, as black as its master's teeth, but fragrant, nicely curved, shining, familiar to his hand, and completing his physiognomy. And he remained still, his eyes fixed now on the flame of the fire, now on the foam crowning his jug; and every time, after he had drunk, he passed, with an air of satisfaction, his thin, long fingers in his flowing greasy hair, while he sucked his mustache fringed with foam.

Loiseau, under pretence of stretching his legs, went out to sell wine to the dealers of the village. The Count and the manufacturer began to talk politics. They were forecasting France's future. The one kept faith in the Orleans dynasty, the other expected an unknown savior, a hero who would rise up when everything was desperate: a Duguseclin, a Jeanne d'Arc perhaps? or another Napoleon the Great?--"Ah! if the Imperial Prince had not been so young!"--Cornudet listening to their conversation, was smiling as a man who holds the keys to destiny.--His pipe perfumed the whole kitchen.

As it was striking ten o'clock, Mr. Follenvie appeared. He was immediately questioned, but he only repeated two or three times, without any variation, the following words:--"The Officer told me so!"--"Monsieur Follenvie, you will forbid the driver to harness up the coach of these travelers to-morrow morning. I don't want them to go without my order. You understand? That is enough!"

Then they wanted to see the Officer. The Count sent in his card on which Mr. Carré-Lamadon added his own name and all his titles. The Prussian sent word that the two men would be admitted to speak to him after he had had his luncheon, that is to say about one o'clock.

The ladies came down, and they all had a bite, in spite of their anxiety. Boule de Suif seemed to be sick and prodigiously worried.

They were finishing their coffee, when the orderly came to call the gentlemen. Loiseau joined the first two, but as they tried to induce Cornudet to go with them in order to add more solemnity to their application, he declared proudly that he expected not to have any intercourse with the Germans; and he resumed his seat near the fire-place, ordering another jug of beer.

The three men went up and were ushered into the finest room of the inn, in which the Officer received them, stretched on an armchair, his feet resting on the mantelpiece, and smoking a long porcelain pipe, wrapped in a flamboyant dressing-robe, no doubt stolen from the abandoned residence of some bourgeois lacking in taste. He did not get up, neither did he greet them nor look at them. He was a magnificent specimen of the insolence natural to victorious soldiers.

After a few seconds, he said in his defective French:

--"What do you want?"

The Count spoke:--"We wish to continue our journey, Sir."

--"No!"

--"May I inquire what is the reason for this refusal?"

--"Because I don't want."

--"I would respectfully call your attention to the fact, Sir, that your General in chief has delivered us a permit to go to Dieppe, and I don't think we did anything to deserve your rigors."

--"I don't want to let you go, that is all; you may retire!"

Having bowed, all three retired.

They spent a wretched afternoon. They could not in any way account for this German's caprice, and the most singular ideas worried their heads. Everybody stayed in the kitchen and there was endless discussion imagining the most unlikely things. Perhaps they wanted to hold them as hostages--but for what object?--or take them away as prisoners? or, rather, demand from them a large ransom? at this thought they became panic-stricken. The wealthiest were the most alarmed, seeing themselves already compelled, in order to redeem their lives, to pour bags of gold into the hands of this insolent soldier. They racked their brains to find plausible and acceptable lies, conceal their wealth, pass themselves off as very poor, very poor. Loiseau took off his watch and chain and hid it in his pocket. The approaching night filled them with apprehension.--The lamp was lighted, and as they still had fully two hours before dinner, Madame Loiseau proposed a game of "trente-et-un." That would be a diversion. They accepted. Even Cornudet, having put out his pipe, joined the party out of politeness.

The Count shuffled the cards and dealt; Boule de Suif had a full thirty-one; and soon the interest in the game quieted the fears that were haunting the minds. But Cornudet noticed that the Loiseau couple had arranged to cheat.

As they were going to sit down to dinner, Mr. Follenvie reappeared, and with his grating voice announced: "The Prussian Officer sends me to ask Mlle. Elizabeth Rousset whether she has changed her mind?"

Boule de Suif stood still, pale as death. Then turning suddenly crimson, she felt so suffocated by anger that she could not speak. Finally she gasped out: "You will please tell that scoundrel, that rascal, that carrion of a Prussian, that I shall never consent; you understand, never, never, never!"

The fat inn-keeper went away. Then Boule de Suif was surrounded, questioned, solicited by everybody to reveal the mystery of her visit. First she resisted, but soon exasperation got the best of her.--"What he wants?...what he wants?.... He wants me to keep company with him," she exclaimed. Nobody was shocked by this revelation, so great was their indignation. Cornudet broke his jug as he banged it down on the table. There was a general clamor of reprobation against the ignoble soldier, a waive of anger, a combination of all for resistance as if each one of the party had been called upon to make the sacrifice demanded of Boule de Suif. The Count declared just like the barbarians in ancient times. The women specially showed Boule de Suif an affectionate and energetic commiseration. The good sisters who showed up only at meal time, had bowed their heads and said nothing.

They dined however as soon as the first furor had abated, but they spoke little.

The ladies retired early; and the men, while smoking, organized a game of écarté and invited Mr. Follenvie to join them, because they wanted to question him skillfully as to the means to be used to overcome the Officer's resistance. but he had his mind concentrated on the cards; he did not hear anything, did not answer anything, and kept on repeating: "Attend to the game, Gentlemen! attend to the game!"--His attention was so tense that he even forgot to expectorate, which produced at times a wheezing in his chest like the sounds of an organ. His whistling lungs gave out every note of the asthmatic scale from the deep and hollow tones up to the shrill crowing of young roosters trying to sing.

He even refused to go up when his wife, overcome with sleep, came to get him. Then she went away all alone, because she was an early riser, getting up with the sun, whereas her husband kept late hours, always ready to spend the night with friends. He called to her:--"Put my eggnog near the fire!"--and continued the game. When the travelers saw that they could not get anything out of him, they announced that it was time to retire, and they all went to bed.

They rose quite early again the next morning with a vague hope, a greater desire to be able to proceed on their journey, and a dread of having to spend another day in this wretched little inn. Alas! the horses remained in the stable, the driver was invisible. Having nothing better to do, they went and wandered around the coach.

Luncheon was very gloomy, and there had developed a general coolness toward Boule de Suif, for night, which brings counsel, had somewhat modified their judgment. They almost bore a grudge against the girl for not having surreptitiously gone to the Prussian Officer to afford a pleasant surprise to her companions when they awoke. Nothing more simple! Beside, who would have suspected it? She might have saved appearances by having the Officer say that he had taken pity on their distress. To her it would have been of little consequence.

But nobody as yet gave expression to such thoughts.

In the afternoon, as they were bored to death, the Count proposed to take a walk around the village. Each one wrapped himself up carefully and the small company set off, with the exception of Cornudet, who preferred to remain by the fire, and the good Nuns who spent their days in Church or at the Parish house.

The cold, growing daily more and more intense, bit mercilessly the nose and ears of the strollers; their feet pained them so much that each step was a torture; and when the country opened up before them, it looked so frightfully dismal under the boundless sheet of white, that they all retraced their steps hastily, with souls frozen and hearts heavy.

The four women walked in front and the three men followed them a little behind.

Loiseau, who understood the situation very clearly, inquired suddenly whether that "wench" was going to keep them much longer in such a place. The Count, always courteous, realized that they could not expect such a painful sacrifice from a woman, and that the offer should originate from her. Monsieur Carré-Lamadon remarked that if the French undertook, as it was rumored, a counter-offensive by way of Dieppe, the battle would certainly be fought in Tôtes. This remark made the other two quite anxious--"How about trying to escape on foot?" suggested Loiseau. The Count shrugged his shoulders:--"That is out of the question in this snow, and with our wives! And furthermore we would be pursued immediately, caught in ten minutes and brought back as prisoners, at the mercy of the soldiers"--That was true. There was silence again.

The ladies talked toilette, but a certain constraint seemed to separate them.

Suddenly the Officer appeared at the end of the street. On the snow that bound the horizon, his tall and wasp-like uniformed figure outlined itself; he walked, knees apart, with that motion particular to soldiers who are anxious not to soil their carefully polished boots.

He bowed as he passed the ladies, and looked scornfully at the men who, it must be said to their credit, had enough dignity not to raise their hats, although Loiseau made a move to take off his headgear.

Boule de Suif blushed red to her ears, and the three married women felt greatly humiliated to have been met by the Officer while they were in the company of this girl whom he had treated so unceremoniously.

Then they spoke of him, of his figure and his face. Madame Carré-Lamadon, who had known many officers and who judged them as a connoisseur, found that this one was not so bad looking after all; she even regretted that he was not French, because he would have made a very handsome husband with whom all the women would have fallen in love.

Once back in the inn, they did not know what to do with themselves. Even acrid words were exchanged about insignificant matters. The silent dinner did not last long and each went upstairs to bed, in the hope of sleeping the time away.

The next morning they came down with tired faces and exasperated tempers. The women hardly spoke to Boule de Suif.

A Church bell began to ring; it was for a baptism. Boule de Suif had a child being brought up by peasants in Yvetot. She did not see it even once a year and never gave it a thought; but the idea of the one that was going to be baptized developed a sudden and violent tenderness for her own and she insisted absolutely on going to the ceremony.

As soon as she was gone, those who remained looked at each other, and drew their chairs closer, for they felt that in the end they had to take some decision.--Loiseau had an inspiration: he suggested that they should propose to the officer to keep Boule de Suif only and let the others go.

Mr. Follenvie undertook again to convey the message, but he came down almost immediately. The German, who knew human nature, had kicked him out of his room. He meant to keep everybody as long as his wishes had not been complied with.

Then the vulgar temper of Madame Loiseau broke loose:--"And yet we are not going to die of old age here! Since it is that vixen's trade to carry it on with all men, I think that she has no right to refuse one rather than another. Imagine, she has taken all that she found in Rouen, even coachmen, yes, Madame, the coachman of the Prefecture; I know it for a fact, because he buys his wine of us. And now that it is a question of getting us out of trouble, she is putting on virtuous airs, the drab! I find that the Officer behaves very well. Possibly he may have abstained for a long time, and here we are three of us whom he certainly would have preferred. But no, he is satisfied with the girl who is public property. He respects married women. Think of it, he is the master here. All that he had to do was to say: 'I want' and he might have taken us by force, with the aid of his soldiers."

The two other women shuddered slightly. The eyes of pretty Madame Carré-Lamadon sparkled, and she grew a little pale as if she felt herself already taken by force by the officer.

The men who were arguing among themselves, came near them. Loiseau, excited, wanted to deliver up that "miserable woman," bound hand and foot, to the enemy. But the Count, descended from three generations of Ambassadors, and endowed with the physique of a diplomat, was advocating more tactfulness and persuasion--"We should persuade her"--said he.

Then they conspired.

The women drew close to each other; the tone of their voices was lowered, and the discussion became general, each giving her opinion. It was most correct, besides. The ladies specially found delicate euphemisms, charming subtleties of expression to say the most shocking things. A stranger would have understood nothing, so well were the precautions of language observed. But as the thin veneer of pudor[*], with which every Society woman is provided, covers only the surface, they showed their real selves in this wretched adventure, and were as a matter of fact enjoying themselves immensely, feeling themselves in their element, handling love with the sensuousness of a gourmand cook who prepares supper for somebody else.

[*][Note from Brett: I think this is an excellent, though unintentional, pun. "Pudor" is Spanish for "shame," but this meaning makes the sentence difficult to read (at best), although it does convey the intent. I think that the word intended is "powder," but left the original in case I am wrong]

Their gaiety came back of itself, so amusing after all did the whole incident seem to them. The Count found rather risky witticisms, but so cleverly told that they provoked smiles. In his turn Loiseau fired some broader jokes, which did not shock the listeners; and the thought brutally expressed by his wife preponderated in every one's mind: "Since it is her business, why should the girl refuse this man rather than another?"--The pretty Mme. Carré-Lamadon seemed even inclined to think that in her place she would refuse this one less than any other.

The blockade was carefully prepared, as if they were besieging a fortress. Each agreed to play the part assigned to him or her, the arguments to be used, the maneuvers to be executed. They decided on the plan of attack, the stratagems and the surprise assault to be attempted in order to compel this living citadel to receive the enemy.

Cornudet, however, remained apart, completely unwilling to participate in this plot.

The minds were so tensely absorbed in this scheme that nobody heard Boule de Suif coming in. But the Count whispered a gentle: "Hush!" which caused all eyes to look up. There she stood. There was a sudden silence and a certain embarrassment prevented them first from speaking to her. The Countess having more than the others the habit of drawing-room duplicities, questioned her:--"Was the baptism interesting?--"

The girl, still laboring under her emotion, told everything, described the faces, the attitudes, and even the appearance of the Church. She added:--"It does one so much good to pray sometimes!--"

However, until lunch time the ladies confined themselves to being nice to her with a view to make her feel more confident and amenable to their advances.

As soon as they sat down to luncheon, the preliminary attack was initiated. It was at first a vague discussion about self-sacrifice. They quoted instances from ancient History, such as Judith and Holophern, then, without any reason Lucretia with Sextus, Cleopatra who admitted to her intimacy all the enemy generals and reduced them to slavish servility. Then a fancy History was propounded, originating in the imagination of those ignorant millionaires, and according to which Roman matrons used to go to Capua and lull Hannibal in their arms, and with him, his lieutenants and the phalanxes of his mercenaries. They quoted all the women who had stopped conquerors, converted their bodies into battlefields, a means of conquest, a weapon, who by their heroic caresses had vanquished frightful and execrated beings, and had sacrificed their chastity to vengeance and patriotic devotion.

They even spoke, in veiled terms, of that English lady of noble family, who had allowed herself to be inoculated with a horrid and contagious disease, which she wanted to communicate to Bonaparte, and how the latter had been miraculously saved by a sudden faintness during the fatal appointment.

And all this was told without overstepping the bounds of propriety and moderation, with her and there a studied manifestation of enthusiasm intended to provoke emulation.

In the end one would have been led to believe that the only mission of woman on this earth was a perpetual sacrifice of her person, a continual offering of herself to the caprices of enemy soldiers.

The two nuns did not seem to hear this conversation, lost as they were in their own deep thoughts. Boule de Suif was silent.

The whole afternoon she was left to herself. But instead of calling her "Madame" as they had done so far, they addressed her as mademoiselle, nobody knew why, as if they wanted to lower her one step in their esteem, which she had escaladed, and make her feel her shameful situation.

While soup was being served, Mr. Follenvie reappeared and repeated his sentence of the day before:--"The Prussian Officer sends me to inquire whether Mademoiselle Elizabeth Rousset has not yet changed her mind?"

Boule de Suif replied curtly: "No, Sir."

But at dinner the coalition weakened. Loiseau spoke three unfortunate sentences. Each was racking his brains to find new examples and did not find any, when the Countess, possibly without premeditation, prompted by a vague desire to render homage to religion, questioned the elder of the two nuns about the most noteworthy deeds in the lives of the Saints.--Now, many Saints had committed acts which would be crimes in our estimation; but the Church absolves readily such transgressions when they are committed for the glory of God and the love of our neighbors. This was a powerful argument; the Countess made the most of it. Then, either by one of those tacit understandings, those veiled complaisances in which whoever wears the clerical garb excels, or through fortunate stupidity, serviable foolishness, the old nun brought a formidable support to the conspiracy. They thought she was timid; she showed herself bold, talkative, violent. This one was not trouble by the hesitations of casuistry; her doctrine seemed to be an iron bar; her faith never hesitated; her conscience had no scruples. She found quite natural Abraham's sacrifice, because she would immediately have killed her father and mother if she had received an order from heaven to do so; and in her opinion nothing could displease God if the motive were laudable. The Countess taking advantage of the sacred authority of her unexpected accomplice, led her on to make a kind of edifying paraphrase of this axiom of morality: "The end justifies the means."

She questioned her:

--"Then, Sister, you think that God accepts all methods and forgives the act when the motive is pure?"

--"Who could doubt it, Madame? An action condemnable in itself often becomes meritorious by the thought which inspires it."

And they continued in this way, unraveling God's intentions, forecasting his judgments, and making Him take interest in things that really did not concern Him at all.

All this was expounded in a veiled, clever, discreet and insinuating manner. But each word of the holy woman in cornet made a breach in the indignant resistance of the courtesan. Then the conversation drifting somewhat, the woman with the hanging rosary spoke of the Convents of her Order, of her Superior, of herself, and of her lovely neighbor, the dear Sister Saint-Nicephore. They had been called to Havre to nurse in the Hospitals hundreds of soldiers stricken with small-pox. She described them, those wretched victims, and gave details about their disease. And while they had been stopped on their way by the caprices of this Prussian Officer, a large number of Frenchmen, whom they would probably have saved, might die. It was her specialty to nurse soldiers; she had been in Crimea, in Italy, in Austria, and telling the story of her campaigns, she unexpectedly revealed herself one of those Nuns fond of drums and bugles, who seem to have been created to follow the armies in action, to pick soldiers during the vicissitudes of battles, and, better than a General, to tame with one word the rough and insubordinate troopers; a genuine martial and bellicose Nun, whose wrinkled and pitted face, looked like an image of the devastations of war.

No one uttered a word after she had concluded, so excellent seemed to be the effect of her discourse.

As soon as the meal was over, they went up quickly to their rooms and came down the next morning rather late.