In the Spring

by Guy de Maupassant

　　With the first day of spring, when the awakening earth puts on itsgarment of green, and the warm, fragrant air fans our faces and fills ourlungs and appears even to penetrate to our hearts, we experience a vague,undefined longing for freedom, for happiness, a desire to run, to wanderaimlessly, to breathe in the spring. The previous winter having beenunusually severe, this spring feeling was like a form of intoxication inMay, as if there were an overabundant supply of sap.One morning on waking I saw from my window the blue sky glowing in thesun above the neighboring houses. The canaries hanging in the windowswere singing loudly, and so were the servants on every floor; a cheerfulnoise rose up from the streets, and I went out, my spirits as bright asthe day, to go--I did not exactly know where. Everybody I met seemed tobe smiling; an air of happiness appeared to pervade everything in thewarm light of returning spring. One might almost have said that a breezeof love was blowing through the city, and the sight of the young womenwhom I saw in the streets in their morning toilets, in the depths ofwhose eyes there lurked a hidden tenderness, and who walked with languidgrace, filled my heart with agitation.Without knowing how or why, I found myself on the banks of the Seine.Steamboats were starting for Suresnes, and suddenly I was seized by anunconquerable desire to take a walk through the woods. The deck of theMouche was covered with passengers, for the sun in early spring draws oneout of the house, in spite of themselves, and everybody moves about, goesand comes and talks to his neighbor.I had a girl neighbor; a little work-girl, no doubt, who possessed thetrue Parisian charm: a little head, with light curly hair, which lookedlike a shimmer of light as it danced in the wind, came down to her ears,and descended to the nape of her neck, where it became such fine, light-colored clown that one could scarcely see it, but felt an irresistibledesire to shower kisses on it.Under my persistent gaze, she turned her head toward me, and thenimmediately looked down, while a slight crease at the side of her mouth,that was ready to break out into a smile, also showed a fine, silky, paledown which the sun was gilding a little.The calm river grew wider; the atmosphere was warm and perfectly still,but a murmur of life seemed to fill all space.My neighbor raised her eyes again, and this time, as I was still lookingat her, she smiled decidedly. She was charming, and in her passingglance I saw a thousand things, which I had hitherto been ignorant of,for I perceived unknown depths, all the charm of tenderness, all thepoetry which we dream of, all the happiness which we are continually insearch of. I felt an insane longing to open my arms and to carry her offsomewhere, so as to whisper the sweet music of words of love into herears.I was just about to address her when somebody touched me on the shoulder,and as I turned round in some surprise, I saw an ordinary-looking man,who was neither young nor old, and who gazed at me sadly."I should like to speak to you," he said.I made a grimace, which he no doubt saw, for he added:"It is a matter of importance."I got up, therefore, and followed him to the other end of the boat andthen he said:"Monsieur, when winter comes, with its cold, wet and snowy weather, yourdoctor says to you constantly: 'Keep your feet warm, guard againstchills, colds, bronchitis, rheumatism and pleurisy.'"Then you are very careful, you wear flannel, a heavy greatcoat and thickshoes, but all this does not prevent you from passing two months in bed.But when spring returns, with its leaves and flowers, its warm, softbreezes and its smell of the fields, all of which causes you vaguedisquiet and causeless emotion, nobody says to you:"'Monsieur, beware of love! It is lying in ambush everywhere; it iswatching for you at every corner; all its snares are laid, all itsweapons are sharpened, all its guiles are prepared! Beware of love!Beware of love! It is more dangerous than brandy, bronchitis orpleurisy! It never forgives and makes everybody commit irreparablefollies.'"Yes, monsieur, I say that the French Government ought to put largepublic notices on the walls, with these words: 'Return of spring. Frenchcitizens, beware of love!' just as they put: 'Beware of paint:"However, as the government will not do this, I must supply its place,and I say to you: 'Beware of love!' for it is just going to seize you,and it is my duty to inform you of it, just as in Russia they inform anyone that his nose is frozen."I was much astonished at this individual, and assuming a dignifiedmanner, I said:"Really, monsieur, you appear to me to be interfering in a matter whichis no concern of yours."He made an abrupt movement and replied:"Ah! monsieur, monsieur! If I see that a man is in danger of beingdrowned at a dangerous spot, ought I to let him perish? So just listento my story and you will see why I ventured to speak to you like this."It was about this time last year that it occurred. But, first of all,I must tell you that I am a clerk in the Admiralty, where our chiefs, thecommissioners, take their gold lace as quill-driving officials seriously,and treat us like forecastle men on board a ship. Well, from my officeI could see a small bit of blue sky and the swallows, and I felt inclinedto dance among my portfolios."My yearning for freedom grew so intense that, in spite of my repugnance,I went to see my chief, a short, bad-tempered man, who was always in arage. When I told him that I was not well, he looked at me and said:'I do not believe it, monsieur, but be off with you! Do you think thatany office can go on with clerks like you?' I started at once and wentdown the Seine. It was a day like this, and I took the Mouche, to go asfar as Saint Cloud. Ah! what a good thing it would have been if my chiefhad refused me permission to leave the office that day!"I seemed to myself to expand in the sun. I loved everything--thesteamer, the river, the trees, the houses and my fellow-passengers.I felt inclined to kiss something, no matter what; it was love, layingits snare. Presently, at the Trocadero, a girl, with a small parcel inher hand, came on board and sat down opposite me. She was decidedlypretty, but it is surprising, monsieur, how much prettier women seem tous when the day is fine at the beginning of the spring. Then they havean intoxicating charm, something quite peculiar about them. It is justlike drinking wine after cheese."I looked at her and she also looked at me, but only occasionally, asthat girl did at you, just now; but at last, by dint of looking at eachother constantly, it seemed to me that we knew each other well enough toenter into conversation, and I spoke to her and she replied. She wasdecidedly pretty and nice and she intoxicated me, monsieur!"She got out at Saint-Cloud, and I followed her. She went and deliveredher parcel, and when she returned the boat had just started. I walked byher side, and the warmth of the 'air made us both sigh. 'It would bevery nice in the woods,' I said. 'Indeed, it would!' she replied.'Shall we go there for a walk, mademoiselie?'"She gave me a quick upward look, as if to see exactly what I was like,and then, after a little hesitation, she accepted my proposal, and soonwe were there, walking side by side. Under the foliage, which was stillrather scanty, the tall, thick, bright green grass was inundated by thesun, and the air was full of insects that were also making love to oneanother, and birds were singing in all directions. My companion began tojump and to run, intoxicated by the air and the smell of the country, andI ran and jumped, following her example. How silly we are at times,monsieur!"Then she sang unrestrainedly a thousand things, opera airs and the songof Musette! The song of Musette! How poetical it seemed to me, then!I almost cried over it. Ah! Those silly songs make us lose our heads;and, believe me, never marry a woman who sings in the country, especiallyif she sings the song of Musette!"She soon grew tired, and sat down on a grassy slope, and I sat at herfeet and took her hands, her little hands, that were so marked with theneedle, and that filled me with emotion. I said to myself:'These are the sacred marks of toil.' Oh! monsieur, do you know whatthose sacred marks of toil mean? They mean all the gossip of theworkroom, the whispered scandal, the mind soiled by all the filth that istalked; they mean lost chastity, foolish chatter, all the wretchedness oftheir everyday life, all the narrowness of ideas which belongs to womenof the lower orders, combined to their fullest extent in the girl whosefingers bear the sacred marks of toil."Then we looked into each other's eyes for a long while. Oh! what powera woman's eye has! How it agitates us, how it invades our very being,takes possession of us, and dominates us! How profound it seems, howfull of infinite promises! People call that looking into each other'ssouls! Oh! monsieur, what humbug! If we could see into each other'ssouls, we should be more careful of what we did. However, I wascaptivated and was crazy about her and tried to take her into my arms,but she said: 'Paws off!'. Then I knelt down and opened my heart to herand poured out all the affection that was suffocating me. She seemedsurprised at my change of manner and gave me a sidelong glance, as if tosay, 'Ah! so that is the way women make a fool of you, old fellow! Verywell, we will see.'"In love, monsieur, we are always novices, and women artful dealers."No doubt I could have had her, and I saw my own stupidity later, butwhat I wanted was not a woman's person, it was love, it was the ideal.I was sentimental, when I ought to have been using my time to a betterpurpose."As soon as she had had enough of my declarations of affection, she gotup, and we returned to Saint-Cloud, and I did not leave her until we gotto Paris; but she had looked so sad as we were returning, that at last Iasked her what was the matter. 'I am thinking,' she replied, 'that thishas been one of those days of which we have but few in life.' My heartbeat so that it felt as if it would break my ribs."I saw her on the following Sunday, and the next Sunday, and everySunday. I took her to Bougival, Saint-Germain, Maisons-Lafitte, Poissy;to every suburban resort of lovers."The little jade, in turn, pretended to love me, until, at last,I altogether lost my head, and three months later I married her."What can you expect, monsieur, when a man is a clerk, living alone,without any relations, or any one to advise him? One says to one's self:'How sweet life would be with a wife!'"And so one gets married and she calls you names from morning till night,understands nothing, knows nothing, chatters continually, sings the songof Musette at the, top of her voice (oh! that song of Musette, how tiredone gets of it!); quarrels with the charcoal dealer, tells the janitorall her domestic details, confides all the secrets of her bedroom to theneighbor's servant, discusses her husband with the tradespeople and hasher head so stuffed with stupid stories, with idiotic superstitions, withextraordinary ideas and monstrous prejudices, that I--for what I havesaid applies more particularly to myself--shed tears of discouragementevery time I talk to her."He stopped, as he was rather out of breath and very much moved, and Ilooked at him, for I felt pity for this poor, artless devil, and I wasjust going to give him some sort of answer, when the boat stopped. Wewere at Saint-Cloud.The little woman who had so taken my fancy rose from her seat in order toland. She passed close to me, and gave me a sidelong glance and afurtive smile, one of those smiles that drive you wild. Then she jumpedon the landing-stage. I sprang forward to follow her, but my neighborlaid hold of my arm. I shook myself loose, however, whereupon he seizedthe skirt of my coat and pulled me back, exclaiming: "You shall not go!you shall not go!" in such a loud voice that everybody turned round andlaughed, and I remained standing motionless and furious, but withoutventuring to face scandal and ridicule, and the steamboat started.The little woman on the landing-stage looked at me as I went off with anair of disappointment, while my persecutor rubbed his hands and whisperedto me:"You must acknowledge that I have done you a great service."