That Costly Ride

by Guy de Maupassant

　　

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The household lived frugally on the meager income derived from thehusband's insignificant appointments. Two children had been born of themarriage, and the earlier condition of the strictest economy had becomeone of quiet, concealed, shamefaced misery, the poverty of a noblefamily--which in spite of misfortune never forgets its rank.Hector de Gribelin had been educated in the provinces, under the paternalroof, by an aged priest. His people were not rich, but they managed tolive and to keep up appearances.At twenty years of age they tried to find him a position, and he enteredthe Ministry of Marine as a clerk at sixty pounds a year. He founderedon the rock of life like all those who have not been early prepared forits rude struggles, who look at life through a mist, who do not know howto protect themselves, whose special aptitudes and faculties have notbeen developed from childhood, whose early training has not developed therough energy needed for the battle of life or furnished them with tool orweapon.His first three years of office work were a martyrdom.He had, however, renewed the acquaintance of a few friends of his family--elderly people, far behind the times, and poor like himself, who livedin aristocratic streets, the gloomy thoroughfares of the Faubourg Saint-Germain ; and he had created a social circle for himself.Strangers to modern life, humble yet proud, these needy aristocrats livedin the upper stories of sleepy, old-world houses. From top to bottom oftheir dwellings the tenants were titled, but money seemed just as scarceon the ground floor as in the attics.Their eternal prejudices, absorption in their rank, anxiety lest theyshould lose caste, filled the minds and thoughts of these families onceso brilliant, now ruined by the idleness of the men of the family.Hector de Gribelin met in this circle a young girl as well born and aspoor as himself and married her.They had two children in four years.For four years more the husband and wife, harassed by poverty, knew noother distraction than the Sunday walk in the Champs-Elysees and a fewevenings at the theatre (amounting in all to one or two in the course ofthe winter) which they owed to free passes presented by some comrade orother.But in the spring of the following year some overtime work was entrustedto Hector de Gribelin by his chief, for which he received the large sumof three hundred francs.The day he brought the money home he said to his wife:"My dear Henrietta, we must indulge in some sort of festivity--say anouting for the children."And after a long discussion it was decided that they should go and lunchone day in the country."Well," cried Hector, "once will not break us, so we'll hire a wagonettefor you, the children and the maid. And I'll have a saddle horse; theexercise will do me good."The whole week long they talked of nothing but the projected excursion.Every evening, on his return from the office, Hector caught up his elderson, put him astride his leg, and, making him bounce up and down as hardas he could, said:"That's how daddy will gallop next Sunday."And the youngster amused himself all day long by bestriding chairs,dragging them round the room and shouting:"This is daddy on horseback!"The servant herself gazed at her master with awestruck eyes as shethought of him riding alongside the carriage, and at meal-times shelistened with all her ears while he spoke of riding and recounted theexploits of his youth, when he lived at home with his father. Oh, he hadlearned in a good school, and once he felt his steed between his legs hefeared nothing--nothing whatever!Rubbing his hands, he repeated gaily to his wife:"If only they would give me a restive animal I should be all the betterpleased. You'll see how well I can ride; and if you like we'll come backby the Champs-Elysees just as all the people are returning from the Bois.As we shall make a good appearance, I shouldn't at all object to meetingsome one from the ministry. That is all that is necessary to insure therespect of one's chiefs."On the day appointed the carriage and the riding horse arrived at thesame moment before the door. Hector went down immediately to examine hismount. He had had straps sewn to his trousers and flourished in his handa whip he had bought the evening before.He raised the horse's legs and felt them one after another, passed hishand over the animal's neck, flank and hocks, opened his mouth, examinedhis teeth, declared his age; and then, the whole household havingcollected round him, he delivered a discourse on the horse in general andthe specimen before him in particular, pronouncing the latter excellentin every respect.When the rest of the party had taken their seats in the carriage heexamined the saddle-girth; then, putting his foot in the stirrup, hesprang to the saddle. The animal began to curvet and nearly threw hisrider.Hector, not altogether at his ease, tried to soothe him:"Come, come, good horse, gently now!"Then, when the horse had recovered his equanimity and the rider hisnerve, the latter asked:"Are you ready?"The occupants of the carriage replied with one voice:"Yes.""Forward!" he commanded.And the cavalcade set out.All looks were centered on him. He trotted in the English style, risingunnecessarily high in the saddle; looking at times as if he were mountinginto space. Sometimes he seemed on the point of falling forward on thehorse's mane; his eyes were fixed, his face drawn, his cheeks pale.His wife, holding one of the children on her knees, and the servant, whowas carrying the other, continually cried out:"Look at papa! look at papa!"And the two boys, intoxicated by the motion of the carriage, by theirdelight and by the keen air, uttered shrill cries. The horse, frightenedby the noise they made, started off at a gallop, and while Hector wastrying to control his steed his hat fell off, and the driver had to getdown and pick it up. When the equestrian had recovered it he called tohis wife from a distance:"Don't let the children shout like that! They'll make the horse bolt!"They lunched on the grass in the Vesinet woods, having brought provisionswith them in the carriage.Although the driver was looking after the three horses, Hector rose everyminute to see if his own lacked anything; he patted him on the neck andfed him with bread, cakes and sugar."He's an unequal trotter," he declared. "He certainly shook me up alittle at first, but, as you saw, I soon got used to it. He knows hismaster now and won't give any more trouble."As had been decided, they returned by the Champs-Elysees.That spacious thoroughfare literally swarmed with vehicles of every kind,and on the sidewalks the pedestrians were so numerous that they lookedlike two indeterminate black ribbons unfurling their length from the Arcde Triomphe to the Place de la Concorde. A flood of sunlight played onthis gay scene, making the varnish of the carriages, the steel of theharness and the handles of the carriage doors shine with dazzlingbrilliancy.An intoxication of life and motion seemed to have invaded this assemblageof human beings, carriages and horses. In the distance the outlines ofthe Obelisk could be discerned in a cloud of golden vapor.As soon as Hector's horse had passed the Arc de Triomphe he becamesuddenly imbued with fresh energy, and, realizing that his stable was notfar off, began to trot rapidly through the maze of wheels, despite allhis rider's efforts to restrain him.The carriage was now far behind. When the horse arrived opposite thePalais de l'Industrie he saw a clear field before him, and, turning tothe right, set off at a gallop.An old woman wearing an apron was crossing the road in leisurely fashion.She happened to be just in Hector's way as he arrived on the scene ridingat full speed. Powerless to control his mount, he shouted at the top ofhis voice:"Hi! Look out there! Hi!"She must have been deaf, for she continued peacefully on her way untilthe awful moment when, struck by the horse's chest as by a locomotiveunder full steam, she rolled ten paces off, turning three somersaults onthe way.Voices yelled:"Stop him!"Hector, frantic with terror, clung to the horse's mane and shouted:"Help! help!"A terrible jolt hurled him, as if shot from a gun, over his horse's earsand cast him into the arms of a policeman who was running up to stop him.In the space of a second a furious, gesticulating, vociferating group hadgathered round him. An old gentleman with a white mustache, wearing alarge round decoration, seemed particularly exasperated. He repeated:"Confound it! When a man is as awkward as all that he should remain athome and not come killing people in the streets, if he doesn't know howto handle a horse."Four men arrived on the scene, carrying the old woman. She appeared tobe dead. Her skin was like parchment, her cap on one side and she wascovered with dust."Take her to a druggist's," ordered the old gentleman, "and let us go tothe commissary of police."Hector started on his way with a policeman on either side of him, a thirdwas leading his horse. A crowd followed them--and suddenly the wagonetteappeared in sight. His wife alighted in consternation, the servant losther head, the children whimpered. He explained that he would soon be athome, that he had knocked a woman down and that there was not much thematter. And his family, distracted with anxiety, went on their way.When they arrived before the commissary the explanation took place in fewwords. He gave his name--Hector de Gribelin, employed at the Ministry ofMarine; and then they awaited news of the injured woman. A policeman whohad been sent to obtain information returned, saying that she hadrecovered consciousness, but was complaining of frightful internal pain.She was a charwoman, sixty-five years of age, named Madame Simon.When he heard that she was not dead Hector regained hope and promised todefray her doctor's bill. Then he hastened to the druggist's. The doorway was thronged; the injured woman, huddled in an armchair, wasgroaning. Her arms hung at her sides, her face was drawn. Two doctorswere still engaged in examining her. No bones were broken, but theyfeared some internal lesion.Hector addressed her:"Do you suffer much?""Oh, yes!""Where is the pain?""I feel as if my stomach were on fire."A doctor approached."Are you the gentleman who caused the accident?""I am.""This woman ought to be sent to a home. I know one where they would takeher at six francs a day. Would you like me to send her there?"Hector was delighted at the idea, thanked him and returned home muchrelieved.His wife, dissolved in tears, was awaiting him. He reassured her."It's all right. This Madame Simon is better already and will be quitewell in two or three days. I have sent her to a home. It's all right."When he left his office the next day he went to inquire for Madame Simon.He found her eating rich soup with an air of great satisfaction."Well?" said he."Oh, sir," she replied, "I'm just the same. I feel sort of crushed--nota bit better."The doctor declared they must wait and see; some complication or othermight arise.Hector waited three days, then he returned. The old woman, fresh-facedand clear-eyed, began to whine when she saw him:"I can't move, sir; I can't move a bit. I shall be like this for therest of my days."A shudder passed through Hector's frame. He asked for the doctor, whomerely shrugged his shoulders and said:"What can I do? I can't tell what's wrong with her. She shrieks whenthey try to raise her. They can't even move her chair from one place toanother without her uttering the most distressing cries. I am bound tobelieve what she tells me; I can't look into her inside. So long as Ihave no chance of seeing her walk I am not justified in supposing her tobe telling lies about herself."The old woman listened, motionless, a malicious gleam in her eyes.A week passed, then a fortnight, then a month. Madame Simon did notleave her armchair. She ate from morning to night, grew fat, chattedgaily with the other patients and seemed to enjoy her immobility as if itwere the rest to which she was entitled after fifty years of going up anddown stairs, of turning mattresses, of carrying coal from one story toanother, of sweeping and dusting.Hector, at his wits' end, came to see her every day. Every day he foundher calm and serene, declaring:"I can't move, sir; I shall never be able to move again."Every evening Madame de Gribelin, devoured with anxiety, said:"How is Madame Simon?"And every time he replied with a resignation born of despair:"Just the same; no change whatever.They dismissed the servant, whose wages they could no longer afford.They economized more rigidly than ever. The whole of the extra pay hadbeen swallowed up.Then Hector summoned four noted doctors, who met in consultation over theold woman. She let them examine her, feel her, sound her, watching themthe while with a cunning eye."We must make her walk," said one."But, sirs, I can't!" she cried. "I can't move!"Then they took hold of her, raised her and dragged her a short distance,but she slipped from their grasp and fell to the floor, groaning andgiving vent to such heartrending cries that they carried her back to herseat with infinite care and precaution.They pronounced a guarded opinion--agreeing, however, that work was animpossibility to her.And when Hector brought this news to his wife she sank on a chair,murmuring:"It would be better to bring her here; it would cost us less."He started in amazement."Here? In our own house? How can you think of such a thing?"But she, resigned now to anything, replied with tears in her eyes:"But what can we do, my love? It's not my fault!"

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That Costly Ride was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Fri, May 24, 2013

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