A New Year's Gift

by Guy de Maupassant

　　"I wished for a New Year's gift--the gift of your heart."

　　Jacques de Randal, having dined at home alone, told his valet he might goout, and he sat down at his table to write some letters.He ended every year in this manner, writing and dreaming. He reviewedthe events of his life since last New Year's Day, things that were nowall over and dead; and, in proportion as the faces of his friends rose upbefore his eyes, he wrote them a few lines, a cordial New Year's greetingon the first of January.So he sat down, opened a drawer, took out of it a woman's photograph,gazed at it a few moments, and kissed it. Then, having laid it beside asheet of notepaper, he began:MY DEAR IRENE: You must by this time have received the littlesouvenir I sent, you addressed to the maid. I have shut myself upthis evening in order to tell you----"The pen here ceased to move. Jacques rose up and began walking up anddown the room.For the last ten months he had had a sweetheart, not like the others, awoman with whom one engages in a passing intrigue, of the theatricalworld or the demi-monde, but a woman whom he loved and won. He was nolonger a young man, although he was still comparatively young for a man,and he looked on life seriously in a positive and practical spirit.Accordingly, he drew up the balance sheet of his passion, as he drew upevery year the balance sheet of friendships that were ended or freshlycontracted, of circumstances and persons that had entered into his life.His first ardor of love having grown calmer, he asked himself with theprecision of a merchant making a calculation what was the state of hisheart with regard to her, and he tried to form an idea of what it wouldbe in the future.He found there a great and deep affection; made up of tenderness,gratitude and the thousand subtleties which give birth to long andpowerful attachments.A ring at the bell made him start. He hesitated. Should he open thedoor? But he said to himself that one must always open the door on NewYear's night, to admit the unknown who is passing by and knocks, nomatter who it may be.So he took a wax candle, passed through the antechamber, drew back thebolts, turned the key, pulled the door back, and saw his sweetheartstanding pale as a corpse, leaning against the wall.He stammered:"What is the matter with you?"She replied:"Are you alone?""Yes.""Without servants?""Yes.""You are not going out?""No."She entered with the air of a woman who knew the house. As soon as shewas in the drawing-room, she sank down on the sofa, and, covering herface with her hands, began to weep bitterly.He knelt down at her feet, and tried to remove her hands from her eyes,so that he might look at them, and exclaimed:"Irene, Irene, what is the matter with you? I implore you to tell mewhat is the matter with you?"Then, amid her sobs, she murmured:"I can no longer live like this.""Live like this? What do you mean?""Yes. I can no longer live like this. I have endured so much. Hestruck me this afternoon.""Who? Your husband?""Yes, my husband.""Ah!"He was astonished, having never suspected that her husband could bebrutal. He was a man of the world, of the better class, a clubman, alover of horses, a theatergoer and an expert swordsman; he was known,talked about, appreciated everywhere, having very courteous manners, avery mediocre intellect, an absence of education and of the real cultureneeded in order to think like all well-bred people, and finally a respectfor conventionalities.He appeared to devote himself to his wife, as a man ought to do in thecase of wealthy and well-bred people. He displayed enough of anxietyabout her wishes, her health, her dresses, and, beyond that, left herperfectly free.Randal, having become Irene's friend, had a right to the affectionatehand-clasp which every husband endowed with good manners owes to hiswife's intimate acquaintance. Then, when Jacques, after having been forsome time the friend, became the lover, his relations with the husbandwere more cordial, as is fitting.Jacques had never dreamed that there were storms in this household, andhe was bewildered at this unexpected revelation.He asked:"How did it happen? Tell me."Thereupon she related a long story, the entire history of her life sincethe day of her marriage, the first disagreement arising out of a merenothing, then becoming accentuated at every new difference of opinionbetween two dissimilar dispositions.Then came quarrels, a complete separation, not apparent, but real; next,her husband showed himself aggressive, suspicious, violent. Now, he wasjealous, jealous of Jacques, and that very day, after a scene, he hadstruck her.She added with decision: "I will not go back to him. Do with me what youlike."Jacques sat down opposite to her, their knees touching. He took herhands:"My dear love, you are going to commit a gross, an irreparable folly. Ifyou want to leave your husband, put him in the wrong, so that yourposition as a woman of the world may be saved."She asked, as she looked at him uneasily:"Then, what do you advise me?""To go back home and to put up with your life there till the day when youcan obtain either a separation or a divorce, with the honors of war.""Is not this thing which you advise me to do a little cowardly?""No; it is wise and sensible. You have a high position, a reputation toprotect, friends to preserve and relations to deal with. You must notlose all these through a mere caprice."She rose up, and said with violence:"Well, no! I cannot stand it any longer! It is at an end! it is at anend!"Then, placing her two hands on her lover's shoulders, and looking himstraight in the face, she asked:"Do you love me?""Yes.""Really and truly?""Yes.""Then take care of me."He exclaimed:"Take care of you? In my own house? Here? Why, you are mad. It wouldmean losing you forever; losing you beyond hope of recall! You are mad!"She replied, slowly and seriously, like a woman who feels the weight ofher words:"Listen, Jacques. He has forbidden me to see you again, and I will notplay this comedy of coming secretly to your house. You must either loseme or take me.""My dear Irene, in that case, obtain your divorce, and I will marry you.""Yes, you will marry me in--two years at the soonest. Yours is a patientlove.""Look here! Reflect! If you remain here he'll come to-morrow to takeyou away, seeing that he is your husband, seeing that he has right andlaw on his side.""I did not ask you to keep me in your own house, Jacques, but to take meanywhere you like. I thought you loved me enough to do that. I havemade a mistake. Good-by!"She turned round and went toward the door so quickly that he was onlyable to catch hold of her when she was outside the room:"Listen, Irene."She struggled, and would not listen to him. Her eyes were full of tears,and she stammered:"Let me alone! let me alone! let me alone!"He made her sit down by force, and once more falling on his knees at herfeet, he now brought forward a number of arguments and counsels to makeher understand the folly and terrible risk of her project. He omittednothing which he deemed necessary to convince her, finding even in hisvery affection for her incentives to persuasion.As she remained silent and cold as ice, he begged of her, implored of herto listen to him, to trust him, to follow his advice.When he had finished speaking, she only replied:"Are you disposed to let me go away now? Take away your hands, so that Imay rise to my feet.""Look here, Irene.""Will you let me go?""Irene--is your resolution irrevocable?""Will you let me go.""Tell me only whether this resolution, this mad resolution of yours,which you will bitterly regret, is irrevocable?""Yes--let me go!""Then stay. You know well that you are at home here. We shall go awayto-morrow morning."She rose to her feet in spite of him, and said in a hard tone:"No. It is too late. I do not want sacrifice; I do not want devotion.""Stay! I have done what I ought to do; I have said what I ought to say.I have no further responsibility on your behalf. My conscience is atpeace. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will obey."'She resumed her seat, looked at him for a long time, and then asked, in avery calm voice:"Well, then, explain.""Explain what? What do you wish me to explain?""Everything--everything that you thought about before changing your mind.Then I will see what I ought to do.""But I thought about nothing at all. I had to warn you that you weregoing to commit an act of folly. You persist; then I ask to share inthis act of folly, and I even insist on it.""It is not natural to change one's mind so quickly.""Listen, my dear love. It is not a question here of sacrifice ordevotion. On the day when I realized that I loved you, I said to myselfwhat every lover ought to say to himself in the same case: 'The man wholoves a woman, who makes an effort to win her, who gets her, and whotakes her, enters into a sacred contract with himself and with her. Thatis, of course, in dealing with a woman like you, not a woman with afickle heart and easily impressed.'"Marriage which has a great social value, a great legal value, possessesin my eyes only a very slight moral value, taking into account theconditions under which it generally takes place."Therefore, when a woman, united by this lawful bond, but having noattachment to her husband, whom she cannot love, a woman whose heart isfree, meets a man whom she cares for, and gives herself to him, when aman who has no other tie, takes a woman in this way, I say that theypledge themselves toward each other by this mutual and free agreementmuch more than by the 'Yes' uttered in the presence of the mayor."I say that, if they are both honorable persons, their union must be moreintimate, more real, more wholesome, than if all the sacraments hadconsecrated it."This woman risks everything. And it is exactly because she knows it,because she gives everything, her heart, her body, her soul, her honor,her life, because she has foreseen all miseries, all dangers allcatastrophes, because she dares to do a bold act, an intrepid act,because she is prepared, determined to brave everything--her husband, whomight kill her, and society, which may cast her out. This is why she isworthy of respect in the midst of her conjugal infidelity; this is whyher lover, in taking her, should also foresee everything, and prefer herto every one else whatever may happen. I have nothing more to say. Ispoke in the beginning like a sensible man whose duty it was to warn you;and now I am only a man--a man who loves you--Command, and I obey."Radiant, she closed his mouth with a kiss, and said in a low tone:"It is not true, darling! There is nothing the matter! My husband doesnot suspect anything. But I wanted to see, I wanted to know, what youwould do I wished for a New Year's gift--the gift of your heart--anothergift besides the necklace you sent me. You have given it to me. Thanks!thanks! God be thanked for the happiness you have given me!"