Lasting Love

by Guy de Maupassant

　　

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It was the end of the dinner that opened the shooting season. TheMarquis de Bertrans with his guests sat around a brightly lighted table,covered with fruit and flowers. The conversation drifted to love.Immediately there arose an animated discussion, the same eternaldiscussion as to whether it were possible to love more than once.Examples were given of persons who had loved once; these were offset bythose who had loved violently many times. The men agreed that passion,like sickness, may attack the same person several times, unless itstrikes to kill. This conclusion seemed quite incontestable. The women,however, who based their opinion on poetry rather than on practicalobservation, maintained that love, the great passion, may come only onceto mortals. It resembles lightning, they said, this love. A heart oncetouched by it becomes forever such a waste, so ruined, so consumed, thatno other strong sentiment can take root there, not even a dream. Themarquis, who had indulged in many love affairs, disputed this belief."I tell you it is possible to love several times with all one's heart andsoul. You quote examples of persons who have killed themselves for love,to prove the impossibility of a second passion. I wager that if theyhad not foolishly committed suicide, and so destroyed the possibility ofa second experience, they would have found a new love, and still another,and so on till death. It is with love as with drink. He who has onceindulged is forever a slave. It is a thing of temperament."They chose the old doctor as umpire. He thought it was as the marquishad said, a thing of temperament."As for me," he said, "I once knew of a love which lasted fifty-fiveyears without one day's respite, and which ended only with death." Thewife of the marquis clasped her hands."That is beautiful! Ah, what a dream to be loved in such a way! Whatbliss to live for fifty-five years enveloped in an intense, unwaveringaffection! How this happy being must have blessed his life to be soadored!"The doctor smiled."You are not mistaken, madame, on this point the loved one was a man.You even know him; it is Monsieur Chouquet, the chemist. As to thewoman, you also know her, the old chair-mender, who came every year tothe chateau." The enthusiasm of the women fell. Some expressed theircontempt with "Pouah!" for the loves of common people did not interestthem. The doctor continued: "Three months ago I was called to thedeathbed of the old chair-mender. The priest had preceded me. Shewished to make us the executors of her will. In order that we mightunderstand her conduct, she told us the story of her life. It is mostsingular and touching: Her father and mother were both chair-menders.She had never lived in a house. As a little child she wandered aboutwith them, dirty, unkempt, hungry. They visited many towns, leavingtheir horse, wagon and dog just outside the limits, where the childplayed in the grass alone until her parents had repaired all the brokenchairs in the place. They seldom spoke, except to cry, 'Chairs! Chairs!Chair-mender!'"When the little one strayed too far away, she would be called back bythe harsh, angry voice of her father. She never heard a word ofaffection. When she grew older, she fetched and carried the brokenchairs. Then it was she made friends with the children in the street,but their parents always called them away and scolded them for speakingto the barefooted child. Often the boys threw stones at her. Once akind woman gave her a few pennies. She saved them most carefully."One day--she was then eleven years old--as she was walking through acountry town she met, behind the cemetery, little Chouquet, weepingbitterly, because one of his playmates had stolen two precious liards(mills). The tears of the small bourgeois, one of those much-enviedmortals, who, she imagined, never knew trouble, completely upset her.She approached him and, as soon as she learned the cause of his grief,she put into his hands all her savings. He took them without hesitationand dried his eyes. Wild with joy, she kissed him. He was busy countinghis money, and did not object. Seeing that she was not repulsed, shethrew her arms round him and gave him a hug--then she ran away."What was going on in her poor little head? Was it because she hadsacrificed all her fortune that she became madly fond of this youngster,or was it because she had given him the first tender kiss? The mysteryis alike for children and for those of riper years. For months shedreamed of that corner near the cemetery and of the little chap.She stole a sou here and, there from her parents on the chair money orgroceries she was sent to buy. When she returned to the spot near thecemetery she had two francs in her pocket, but he was not there. Passinghis father's drug store, she caught sight of him behind the counter.He was sitting between a large red globe and a blue one. She only lovedhim the more, quite carried away at the sight of the brilliant-coloredglobes. She cherished the recollection of it forever in her heart.The following year she met him near the school. playing marbles.She rushed up to him, threw her arms round him, and kissed him sopassionately that he screamed, in fear. To quiet him, she gave him allher money. Three francs and twenty centimes! A real gold mine, at whichhe gazed with staring eyes."After this he allowed her to kiss him as much as she wished. During thenext four years she put into his hands all her savings, which he pocketedconscientiously in exchange for kisses. At one time it was thirty sons,at another two francs. Again, she only had twelve sous. She wept withgrief and shame, explaining brokenly that it had been a poor year. Thenext time she brought five francs, in one whole piece, which made herlaugh with joy. She no longer thought of any one but the boy, and hewatched for her with impatience; sometimes he would run to meet her.This made her heart thump with joy. Suddenly he disappeared. He hadgone to boarding school. She found this out by careful investigation.Then she used great diplomacy to persuade her parents to change theirroute and pass by this way again during vacation. After a year ofscheming she succeeded. She had not seen him for two years, and scarcelyrecognized him, he was so changed, had grown taller, better looking andwas imposing in his uniform, with its brass buttons. He pretended not tosee her, and passed by without a glance. She wept for two days and fromthat time loved and suffered unceasingly."Every year he came home and she passed him, not daring to lift her eyes.He never condescended to turn his head toward her. She loved him madly,hopelessly. She said to me:"'He is the only man whom I have ever seen. I don't even know if anotherexists.' Her parents died. She continued their work."One day, on entering the village, where her heart always remained, shesaw Chouquet coming out of his pharmacy with a young lady leaning on hisarm. She was his wife. That night the chairmender threw herself intothe river. A drunkard passing the spot pulled her out and took her tothe drug store. Young Chouquet came down in his dressing gown to reviveher. Without seeming to know who she was he undressed her and rubbedher; then he said to her, in a harsh voice:"'You are mad! People must not do stupid things like that.' His voicebrought her to life again. He had spoken to her! She was happy for along time. He refused remuneration for his trouble, although sheinsisted."All her life passed in this way. She worked, thinking always of him.She began to buy medicines at his pharmacy; this gave her a chance totalk to him and to see him closely. In this way, she was still able togive him money."As I said before, she died this spring. When she had closed herpathetic story she entreated me to take her earnings to the man sheloved. She had worked only that she might leave him something to remindhim of her after her death. I gave the priest fifty francs for herfuneral expenses. The next morning I went to see the Chouquets. Theywere finishing breakfast, sitting opposite each other, fat and red,important and self-satisfied. They welcomed me and offered me somecoffee, which I accepted. Then I began my story in a trembling voice,sure that they would be softened, even to tears. As soon as Chouquetunderstood that he had been loved by 'that vagabond! that chair-mender!that wanderer!' he swore with indignation as though his reputation hadbeen sullied, the respect of decent people lost, his personal honor,something precious and dearer to him than life, gone. His exasperatedwife kept repeating: 'That beggar! That beggar!'"Seeming unable to find words suitable to the enormity, he stood up andbegan striding about. He muttered : 'Can you understand anything sohorrible, doctor? Oh, if I had only known it while she was alive, Ishould have had her thrown into prison. I promise you she would not haveescaped.'"I was dumfounded; I hardly knew what to think or say, but I had tofinish my mission. 'She commissioned me,' I said, 'to give you hersavings, which amount to three thousand five hundred francs. As what Ihave just told you seems to be very disagreeable, perhaps you wouldprefer to give this money to the poor.'"They looked at me, that man and woman,' speechless with amazement.I took the few thousand francs from out of my pocket. Wretched-lookingmoney from every country. Pennies and gold pieces all mixed together.Then I asked:"'What is your decision?'"Madame Chouquet spoke first. 'Well, since it is the dying woman's wish,it seems to me impossible to refuse it.'"Her husband said, in a shamefaced manner: 'We could buy something forour children with it.'"I answered dryly: 'As you wish.'"He replied: 'Well, give it to us anyhow, since she commissioned you todo so; we will find a way to put it to some good purpose.'"I gave them the money, bowed and left."The next day Chouquet came to me and said brusquely:"'That woman left her wagon here--what have you done with it?'"'Nothing; take it if you wish.'"'It's just what I wanted,' he added, and walked off. I called him backand said:"'She also left her old horse and two dogs. Don't you need them?'"He stared at me surprised: 'Well, no! Really, what would I do withthem?'"'Dispose of them as you like.'"He laughed and held out his hand to me. I shook it. What could I do?The doctor and the druggist in a country village must not be at enmity.I have kept the dogs. The priest took the old horse. The wagon isuseful to Chouquet, and with the money he has bought railroad stock.That is the only deep, sincere love that I have ever known in all mylife."The doctor looked up. The marquise, whose eyes were full of tears,sighed and said:"There is no denying the fact, only women know how to love."

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Lasting Love was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Wed, Jul 01, 2015

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