The Thief

by Guy de Maupassant

　　

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While apparently thinking of something else, Dr. Sorbier had beenlistening quietly to those amazing accounts of burglaries and daringdeeds that might have been taken from the trial of Cartouche."Assuredly," he exclaimed, "assuredly, I know of no viler fault nor anymeaner action than to attack a girl's innocence, to corrupt her, toprofit by a moment of unconscious weakness and of madness, when her heartis beating like that of a frightened fawn, and her pure lips seek thoseof her tempter; when she abandons herself without thinking of theirremediable stain, nor of her fall, nor of the morrow."The man who has brought this about slowly, viciously, who can tell withwhat science of evil, and who, in such a case, has not steadiness andself-restraint enough to quench that flame by some icy words, who has notsense enough for two, who cannot recover his self-possession and masterthe runaway brute within him, and who loses his head on the edge of theprecipice over which she is going to fall, is as contemptible as any manwho breaks open a lock, or as any rascal on the lookout for a house leftdefenceless and unprotected or for some easy and dishonest stroke ofbusiness, or as that thief whose various exploits you have just relatedto us."I, for my part, utterly refuse to absolve him, even when extenuatingcircumstances plead in his favor, even when he is carrying on a dangerousflirtation, in which a man tries in vain to keep his balance, not toexceed the limits of the game, any more than at lawn tennis; even whenthe parts are inverted and a man's adversary is some precocious, curious,seductive girl, who shows you immediately that she has nothing to learnand nothing to experience, except the last chapter of love, one of thosegirls from whom may fate always preserve our sons, and whom apsychological novel writer has christened 'The Semi-Virgins.'"It is, of course, difficult and painful for that coarse and unfathomablevanity which is characteristic of every man, and which might be called'malism', not to stir such a charming fire, difficult to act the Josephand the fool, to turn away his eyes, and, as it were, to put wax into hisears, like the companions of Ulysses when they were attracted by thedivine, seductive songs of the Sirens, difficult only to touch thatpretty table covered with a perfectly new cloth, at which you are invitedto take a seat before any one else, in such a suggestive voice, and arerequested to quench your thirst and to taste that new wine, whose freshand strange flavor you will never forget. But who would hesitate toexercise such self-restraint if, when he rapidly examines his conscience,in one of those instinctive returns to his sober self in which a manthinks clearly and recovers his head, he were to measure the gravity ofhis fault, consider it, think of its consequences, of the reprisals, ofthe uneasiness which he would always feel in the future, and which woulddestroy the repose and happiness of his life?"You may guess that behind all these moral reflections, such as agraybeard like myself may indulge in, there is a story hidden, and, sadas it is, I am sure it will interest you on account of the strangeheroism it shows."He was silent for a few moments, as if to classify his recollections,and, with his elbows resting on the arms of his easy-chair and his eyeslooking into space, he continued in the slow voice of a hospitalprofessor who is explaining a case to his class of medical students, at abedside:"He was one of those men who, as our grandfathers used to say, never metwith a cruel woman, the type of the adventurous knight who was alwaysforaging, who had something of the scamp about him, but who despiseddanger and was bold even to rashness. He was ardent in the pursuit ofpleasure, and had an irresistible charm about him, one of those men inwhom we excuse the greatest excesses as the most natural things in theworld. He had run through all his money at gambling and with prettygirls, and so became, as it were, a soldier of fortune. He amusedhimself whenever and however he could, and was at that time quartered atVersailles."I knew him to the very depths of his childlike heart, which was only tooeasily seen through and sounded, and I loved him as some old bacheloruncle loves a nephew who plays him tricks, but who knows how to coax him.He had made me his confidant rather than his adviser, kept me informed ofhis slightest pranks, though he always pretended to be speaking about oneof his friends, and not about himself; and I must confess that hisyouthful impetuosity, his careless gaiety, and his amorous ardorsometimes distracted my thoughts and made me envy the handsome, vigorousyoung fellow who was so happy at being alive, that I had not the courageto check him, to show him the right road, and to call out to him: 'Takecare!' as children do at blind man's buff."And one day, after one of those interminable cotillons, where thecouples do not leave each other for hours, and can disappear togetherwithout anybody thinking of noticing them, the poor fellow at lastdiscovered what love was, that real love which takes up its abode in thevery centre of the heart and in the brain, and is proud of being there,and which rules like a sovereign and a tyrannous master, and he becamedesperately enamored of a pretty but badly brought up girl, who was asdisquieting and wayward as she was pretty."She loved him, however, or rather she idolized him despotically, madly,with all her enraptured soul and all her being. Left to do as shepleased by imprudent and frivolous parents, suffering from neurosis, inconsequence of the unwholesome friendships which she contracted at theconvent school, instructed by what she saw and heard and knew was goingon around her, in spite of her deceitful and artificial conduct, knowingthat neither her father nor her mother, who were very proud of their raceas well as avaricious, would ever agree to let her marry the man whom shehad taken a liking to, that handsome fellow who had little besidesvision, ideas and debts, and who belonged to the middle-class, she laidaside all scruples, thought of nothing but of becoming his, no matterwhat might be the cost."By degrees, the unfortunate man's strength gave way, his heart softened,and he allowed himself to be carried away by that current which buffetedhim, surrounded him, and left him on the shore like a waif and a stray."They wrote letters full of madness to each other, and not a day passedwithout their meeting, either accidentally, as it seemed, or at partiesand balls. She had yielded her lips to him in long, ardent caresses,which had sealed their compact of mutual passion."The doctor stopped, and his eyes suddenly filled with tears, as theseformer troubles came back to his mind; and then, in a hoarse voice, hewent on, full of the horror of what he was going to relate:"For months he scaled the garden wall, and, holding his breath andlistening for the slightest noise, like a burglar who is going to breakinto a house, he went in by the servants' entrance, which she had leftopen, slunk barefoot down a long passage and up the broad staircase,which creaked occasionally, to the second story, where his sweetheart'sroom was, and stayed there for hours."One night, when it was darker than usual, and he was hurrying lest heshould be later than the time agreed on, he knocked up against a piece offurniture in the anteroom and upset it. It so happened that the girl'smother had not gone to sleep, either because she had a sick headache, orelse be cause she had sat up late over some novel, and, frightened atthat unusual noise which disturbed the silence of the house, she jumpedout of bed, opened the door, saw some one indistinctly running away andkeeping close to the wall, and, immediately thinking that there wereburglars in the house, she aroused her husband and the servants by herfrantic screams. The unfortunate man understood the situation; and,seeing what a terrible fix he was in, and preferring to be taken for acommon thief to dishonoring his adored one's name, he ran into thedrawing-room, felt on the tables and what-nots, filled his pockets atrandom with valuable bric-a-brac, and then cowered down behind the grandpiano, which barred the corner of a large room."The servants, who had run in with lighted candles, found him, and,overwhelming him with abuse, seized him by the collar and dragged him,panting and apparently half dead with shame and terror, to the nearestpolice station. He defended himself with intentional awkwardness when hewas brought up for trial, kept up his part with the most perfect self-possession and without any signs of the despair and anguish that he feltin his heart, and, condemned and degraded and made to suffer martyrdom inhis honor as a man and a soldier--he was an officer--he did not protest,but went to prison as one of those criminals whom society gets rid oflike noxious vermin."He died there of misery and of bitterness of spirit, with the name ofthe fair-haired idol, for whom he had sacrificed himself, on his lips, asif it had been an ecstatic prayer, and he intrusted his will 'to thepriest who administered extreme unction to him, and requested him to giveit to me. In it, without mentioning anybody, and without in the leastlifting the veil, he at last explained the enigma, and cleared himself ofthose accusations the terrible burden of which he had borne until hislast breath."I have always thought myself, though I do not know why, that the girlmarried and had several charming children, whom she brought up with theaustere strictness and in the serious piety of former days!"

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