The Adopted Son

by Guy de Maupassant

　　

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The two cottages stood beside each other at the foot of a hill near alittle seashore resort. The two peasants labored hard on theunproductive soil to rear their little ones, and each family had four.Before the adjoining doors a whole troop of urchins played and tumbledabout from morning till night. The two eldest were six years old, andthe youngest were about fifteen months; the marriages, and afterward thebirths, having taken place nearly simultaneously in both families.The two mothers could hardly distinguish their own offspring among thelot, and as for the fathers, they were altogether at sea. The eightnames danced in their heads; they were always getting them mixed up; andwhen they wished to call one child, the men often called three namesbefore getting the right one.The first of the two cottages, as you came up from the bathing beach,Rolleport, was occupied by the Tuvaches, who had three girls and one boy;the other house sheltered the Vallins, who had one girl and three boys.They all subsisted frugally on soup, potatoes and fresh air. At seveno'clock in the morning, then at noon, then at six o'clock in the evening,the housewives got their broods together to give them their food, as thegooseherds collect their charges. The children were seated, according toage, before the wooden table, varnished by fifty years of use; the mouthsof the youngest hardly reaching the level of the table. Before them wasplaced a bowl filled with bread, soaked in the water in which thepotatoes had been boiled, half a cabbage and three onions; and the wholeline ate until their hunger was appeased. The mother herself fed thesmallest.A small pot roast on Sunday was a feast for all; and the father on thisday sat longer over the meal, repeating: "I wish we could have this everyday."One afternoon, in the month of August, a phaeton stopped suddenly infront of the cottages, and a young woman, who was driving the horses,said to the gentleman sitting at her side:"Oh, look at all those children, Henri! How pretty they are, tumblingabout in the dust, like that!"The man did not answer, accustomed to these outbursts of admiration,which were a pain and almost a reproach to him. The young womancontinued:"I must hug them! Oh, how I should like to have one of them--that onethere--the little tiny one!"Springing down from the carriage, she ran toward the children, took oneof the two youngest--a Tuvache child--and lifting it up in her arms, shekissed him passionately on his dirty cheeks, on his tousled hair daubedwith earth, and on his little hands, with which he fought vigorously, toget away from the caresses which displeased him.Then she got into the carriage again, and drove off at a lively trot.But she returned the following week, and seating herself on the ground,took the youngster in her arms, stuffed him with cakes; gave candies toall the others, and played with them like a young girl, while the husbandwaited patiently in the carriage.She returned again; made the acquaintance of the parents, and reappearedevery day with her pockets full of dainties and pennies.Her name was Madame Henri d'Hubieres.One morning, on arriving, her husband alighted with her, and withoutstopping to talk to the children, who now knew her well, she entered thefarmer's cottage.They were busy chopping wood for the fire. They rose to their feet insurprise, brought forward chairs, and waited expectantly.Then the woman, in a broken, trembling voice, began:"My good people, I have come to see you, because I should like--I shouldlike to take--your little boy with me--"The country people, too bewildered to think, did not answer.She recovered her breath, and continued: "We are alone, my husband and I.We would keep it. Are you willing?"The peasant woman began to understand. She asked:"You want to take Charlot from us? Oh, no, indeed!"Then M. d'Hubieres intervened:"My wife has not made her meaning clear. We wish to adopt him, but hewill come back to see you. If he turns out well, as there is everyreason to expect, he will be our heir. If we, perchance, should havechildren, he will share equally with them; but if he should not rewardour care, we should give him, when he comes of age, a sum of twentythousand francs, which shall be deposited immediately in his name, witha lawyer. As we have thought also of you, we should pay you, until yourdeath, a pension of one hundred francs a month. Do you understand me?"The woman had arisen, furious."You want me to sell you Charlot? Oh, no, that's not the sort of thingto ask of a mother! Oh, no! That would be an abomination!"The man, grave and deliberate, said nothing; but approved of what hiswife said by a continued nodding of his head.Madame d'Hubieres, in dismay, began to weep; turning to her husband, witha voice full of tears, the voice of a child used to having all its wishesgratified, she stammered:"They will not do it, Henri, they will not do it."Then he made a last attempt: "But, my friends, think of the child'sfuture, of his happiness, of--"The peasant woman, however, exasperated, cut him short:"It's all considered! It's all understood! Get out of here, and don'tlet me see you again--the idea of wanting to take away a child likethat!"Madame d'Hubieres remembered that there were two children, quite little,and she asked, through her tears, with the tenacity of a wilful andspoiled woman:"But is the other little one not yours?"Father Tuvache answered: "No, it is our neighbors'. You can go to themif you wish." And he went back into his house, whence resounded theindignant voice of his wife.The Vallins were at table, slowly eating slices of bread which theyparsimoniously spread with a little rancid butter on a plate between thetwo.M. d'Hubieres recommenced his proposals, but with more insinuations, moreoratorical precautions, more shrewdness.The two country people shook their heads, in sign of refusal, but whenthey learned that they were to have a hundred francs a month, theyconsidered the matter, consulting one another by glances, much disturbed.They kept silent for a long time, tortured, hesitating. At last thewoman asked: "What do you say to it, man?" In a weighty tone he said:"I say that it's not to be despised."Madame d'Hubieres, trembling with anguish, spoke of the future of theirchild, of his happiness, and of the money which he could give them later.The peasant asked: "This pension of twelve hundred francs, will it bepromised before a lawyer?"M. d'Hubieres responded: "Why, certainly, beginning with to-morrow."The woman, who was thinking it over, continued:"A hundred francs a month is not enough to pay for depriving us of thechild. That child would be working in a few years; we must have ahundred and twenty francs."Tapping her foot with impatience, Madame d'Hubieres granted it at once,and, as she wished to carry off the child with her, she gave a hundredfrancs extra, as a present, while her husband drew up a paper. And theyoung woman, radiant, carried off the howling brat, as one carries away awished-for knick-knack from a shop.The Tuvaches, from their door, watched her departure, silent, serious,perhaps regretting their refusal.Nothing more was heard of little Jean Vallin. The parents went to thelawyer every month to collect their hundred and twenty francs. They hadquarrelled with their neighbors, because Mother Tuvache grossly insultedthem, continually, repeating from door to door that one must be unnaturalto sell one's child; that it was horrible, disgusting, bribery.Sometimes she would take her Charlot in her arms, ostentatiouslyexclaiming, as if he understood:"I didn't sell you, I didn't! I didn't sell you, my little one! I'm notrich, but I don't sell my children!"The Vallins lived comfortably, thanks to the pension. That was the causeof the unappeasable fury of the Tuvaches, who had remained miserablypoor. Their eldest went away to serve his time in the army; Charlotalone remained to labor with his old father, to support the mother andtwo younger sisters.He had reached twenty-one years when, one morning, a brilliant carriagestopped before the two cottages. A young gentleman, with a gold watch-chain, got out, giving his hand to an aged, white-haired lady. The oldlady said to him: "It is there, my child, at the second house." And heentered the house of the Vallins as though at home.The old mother was washing her aprons; the infirm father slumbered at thechimney-corner. Both raised their heads, and the young man said:"Good-morning, papa; good-morning, mamma!"They both stood up, frightened! In a flutter, the peasant woman droppedher soap into the water, and stammered:"Is it you, my child? Is it you, my child?"He took her in his arms and hugged her, repeating: "Good-morning, mamma,"while the old man, all a-tremble, said, in his calm tone which he neverlost: "Here you are, back again, Jean," as if he had just seen him amonth ago.When they had got to know one another again, the parents wished to taketheir boy out in the neighborhood, and show him. They took him to themayor, to the deputy, to the cure, and to the schoolmaster.Charlot, standing on the threshold of his cottage, watched him pass.In the evening, at supper, he said to the old people: "You must have beenstupid to let the Vallins' boy be taken."The mother answered, obstinately: "I wouldn't sell my child."The father remained silent. The son continued:"It is unfortunate to be sacrificed like that."Then Father Tuvache, in an angry tone, said:"Are you going to reproach us for having kept you?" And the young mansaid, brutally:"Yes, I reproach you for having been such fools. Parents like you makethe misfortune of their children. You deserve that I should leave you."The old woman wept over her plate. She moaned, as she swallowed thespoonfuls of soup, half of which she spilled: "One may kill one's self tobring up children!"Then the boy said, roughly: "I'd rather not have been born than be what Iam. When I saw the other, my heart stood still. I said to myself: 'Seewhat I should have been now!'" He got up: "See here, I feel that I woulddo better not to stay here, because I would throw it up to you frommorning till night, and I would make your life miserable. I'll neverforgive you for that!"The two old people were silent, downcast, in tears.He continued: "No, the thought of that would be too much. I'd ratherlook for a living somewhere else."He opened the door. A sound of voices came in at the door. The Vallinswere celebrating the return of their child.

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The Adopted Son was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Mon, Apr 24, 2017

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