La Pararure by Guy de Maupassant

Today I'm going to translate a short story by Guy de Maupassant which appeared in the Gaulois on 17 February 1884

She was one of those pretty and charming girls, born, as if by a mistake of fate, into a family of clerks. She had no dowry, no hope, no way of being known, understood, loved, married by a rich and distinguished man; and she allowed herself to be married to a small clerk in the Ministry of Public Instruction. She was a simple woman who could not be adorned, but unfortunately like a declassed woman, for women have no caste or race, their beauty, their grace and their charm serving them as birth and family. Their native finesse, their instinct for elegance, their suppleness of mind, are their only hierarchy, and make the girls of the people the equals of the greatest ladies. She suffered incessantly, feeling that she was born for all delicacies and luxuries. She suffered from the poverty of her lodgings, from the misery of the walls, from the wear and tear of the seats, from the ugliness of the fabrics. All these things, which another woman of her caste would not even have noticed, tortured and indignant her. The sight of the little Breton woman doing her humble household awakened in her desolate regrets and distraught dreams. She thought of the silent antechambers, upholstered with oriental hangings, lit by high bronze torches, and of the two tall valets in short breeches sleeping in the wide armchairs, dozed by the heavy heat of the calorifier. She thought of the great salons dressed in ancient silk, with fine furniture bearing priceless trinkets, and of the small, coquettish, perfumed salons, made for the five o'clock chat with the most intimate friends, the well-known and sought-after men whose attention all women envy and desire. When she sat down to dinner at the round table covered with a three-day tablecloth, opposite her husband, who uncovered the tureen and said with a delighted look: "Ah, the good pot-au-feu! I know nothing better than that. "She thought of fine dinners, of gleaming silverware, of tapestries populating the walls with ancient figures and strange birds in the midst of a fairy-tale forest; she thought of exquisite dishes served in marvellous china, of whispered gallantries listened to with the smile of a sphinx, while eating the pink flesh of a trout or grouse wings. She had no toilet, no jewellery, nothing. And that was all she liked; she felt she was made for it. She would have liked so much to please, to be envied, to be attractive and sought after. She had a rich friend, a convent friend whom she didn't want to go and see any more, because she suffered so much when she came back. And she cried for days on end, in sorrow, regret, despair and distress. Then one evening her husband came home, looking glorious, and holding a large envelope in his hand. Here," he said, "is something for you. She tore the paper open and pulled out a printed card bearing the words: "The Minister of Public Instruction and Mrs. Georges Ramponneau ask Mr. and Mrs. Loisel to do them the honour of spending the evening at the Ministry's hotel on Monday, January 18. Instead of being delighted, as her husband had hoped, she threw the invitation on the table in spite of herself, murmuring, "What do you want me to do with this? - But, my dear, I thought you would be pleased. You never go out, and this is an opportunity, a great one! I had infinite difficulty in getting it. Everyone wants it; it's very much in demand and they don't give a lot to the employees. You'll see all the official people there. "She looked at him with an irritated eye, and said impatiently, "What do you want me to put on my back to go there?"

He had not thought of that; he stammered, "But the dress you go to the theatre in. It looks very good on me..." He fell silent, stunned, distraught, when he saw that his wife was crying. Two big tears were slowly falling from the corners of his eyes to the corners of his mouth; he stammered, "What have you? What have you got?" But by a violent effort she had tamed her grief and answered in a calm voice, wiping her wet cheeks: "Nothing. Only I have no toilet and therefore I cannot go to this party. Give your card to some colleague whose wife will be better dressed than me." He was sorry. He said, "Come on, Matilda. How much would it cost, a decent toilet, which could serve you well on other occasions, something very simple?" She thought for a few seconds, working out her accounts and also thinking how much she could ask for without attracting an immediate refusal and a startled exclamation from the thrifty clerk. At last she answered hesitantly: "I don't know exactly, but it seems to me that with four hundred francs I could manage. He had turned a little pale, for he was only saving that sum to buy a rifle and to go hunting the following summer on the plain of Nanterre with some friends who were going to shoot larks there on Sundays. However, he said: "So be it. I'll give you four hundred francs. But make sure you have a nice dress.

The day of the party was approaching, and Mrs Loisel seemed sad, worried and anxious. Her dress was ready

however. Her husband said to her one evening: "What's wrong with you? Let's see, you've been all funny for three days.

And she replied: "It bothers me not to have a piece of jewellery, not a stone, nothing to wear. I'll look

I'll look as miserable as anything. I'd almost rather not go to this party.

He continued, "You'll wear natural flowers. It's very chic in this season. For ten francs you can have

two or three beautiful roses. "She was not convinced.

"No ... there is nothing more humiliating than to look poor in the middle of rich women.

But her husband exclaimed, "How stupid you are! Go and find your friend Mme Forestier and ask her to lend you

you some jewellery. You are well enough connected with her to do that. She gave a cry of joy: "It's true. I hadn't thought of that. "

The next day she went to her friend's house and told her of her distress. Mme. Forestier went to her mirror cabinet, took a large box, brought it, opened it, and said to Mme. Loisel:

"Choose, my dear."

She saw first bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a Venetian cross, gold and gems, of admirable workmanship.

of admirable workmanship. She tried on the ornaments in front of the mirror, hesitated, could not make up her mind to leave them, to return them. She always asked:

"Don't you have anything else?

Yes, I do. Look for it. I don't know what you might like. "Suddenly she discovered, in a black satin box, a superb river of diamonds; and her heart

and her heart began to beat with an immoderate desire. Her hands trembled as she took it. She tied it around her throat, on her

her throat, on her high dress, and remained in ecstasy before herself. Then she asked, hesitantly, full of anguish: "Can you lend me this, just this?

Yes, certainly. "

She jumped on her friend's neck, kissed her excitedly, and then ran off with her treasure.

The day of the party arrived. Mme Loisel was a success. She was prettier than all of them, elegant, graceful, smiling and crazy with joy. All the men looked at her, asked her name, and tried to be

to be introduced. All the cabinet attachés wanted to waltz with her. The minister noticed her. She danced drunkenly, wildly, intoxicated by pleasure, thinking of nothing, in the triumph of her beauty, in the

of her beauty, in the glory of her success, in a sort of cloud of happiness made up of all these tributes

of all these tributes, of all these admirations, of all these awakened desires, of this victory so complete and so sweet to the heart of

and so sweet to the heart of women.

She left at about four in the morning. Her husband, since midnight, had been sleeping in a small deserted salon

with three other gentlemen whose wives were having a good time.

He threw over his shoulders the clothes he had brought for the outing, modest clothes of ordinary life, whose poverty clashed with the

of ordinary life, whose poverty clashed with the elegance of the ball gown. She felt it and wanted to run away, so as not to be noticed by the other women who were wrapping themselves in rich furs.

Loisel held her back: "Wait a minute. You'll catch a cold outside. I'll call a carriage.

But she didn't listen to him and quickly went down the stairs. When they were in the street they found no carriage

and they began to search, shouting at the coachmen whom they saw passing in the distance.

from afar.

They went down towards the Seine, desperate and shivering. At last they found on the quay one of those old

of those old night-owls that one sees in Paris only at night, as if they had been ashamed of their misery

of their misery during the day.

He took them back to their door in the Rue des Martyrs, and they went home sadly.

It was over for her. And he thought that he would have to be at the Ministry at ten o'clock.

She took off the clothes she had wrapped around her shoulders in front of the mirror, so as to see herself once more in her glory.

once more in her glory. But suddenly she let out a scream. Her river was no longer around her neck!

Her husband, already half undressed, asked: "What's wrong with you? "

She turned to him in panic: "I... I... I don't have Mme Forestier's river anymore. "

He stood up, distraught: "What!... how!... It is not possible!" And they searched in the folds of the dress, in the folds of the coat, in the pockets, everywhere. They did not

They could not find her.

He asked: "Are you sure you still had it when you left the ball?

Yes, I touched it in the hallway of the ministry.

But if you had lost it in the street, we would have heard it fall. She must be in the hansom.

Yes. That's likely. Did you get the number?

No. And you didn't look at it?

No."

They stared at each other in dismay. At last Loisel got dressed again.

I'm going," he said, "to retrace the whole of the journey we made on foot, to see if I can't find her. "

And he left. She remained in her evening dress, without strength to lie down, slumped in a chair, without fire, without thought.

fire, without a thought. Her husband came home around seven o'clock. He had found nothing.

He went to the Prefecture of Police, to the newspapers, to get a promise of a reward, to the small car companies

to the small car companies, and everywhere else where a hint of hope urged him.

She waited all day, in the same state of dismay at this dreadful disaster. Loisel returned in the evening, with a hollowed out, pale face; he had discovered nothing.

You must," he said, "write to your friend that you have broken her river lock and are having it repaired. That

This will give us time to turn around. "She wrote under his dictation.

After a week, they had lost all hope. And Loisel, five years older, declared: "We must see about replacing this jewel.

The next day they took the box that had contained it, and went to the jeweller's, whose name was on it.

name was on it. He consulted his books: "It was not I, madam, who sold this river; I had only to supply the case.

I only had to provide the case." Then they went from jeweller to jeweller, looking for an ornament like the other, consulting their

the other, consulting their memories, both sick with grief and anguish. They found, in a shop in the Palais-Royal, a string of diamonds which seemed to them entirely similar to the one they were looking for. It was worth

forty thousand francs. It would be left to them at thirty-six thousand.

They therefore begged the jeweller not to sell it for three days. And they made a condition that it would be

the first one was found before the end of February, they would take it back for thirty-four thousand francs.

Loisel had eighteen thousand francs which his father had left him. He would borrow the rest.

He borrowed, asking for a thousand francs from one, five hundred from the other, five louis here, three louis there. He made

He made notes, took on ruinous commitments, had to deal with usurers, with all the races of moneylenders. He

the end of his life, risked his signature without knowing whether he could honour it, and, terrified

and, frightened by the anguish of the future, by the black misery which was going to fall upon him, by the

the prospect of all the physical privations and moral tortures, he went to seek the new river

the new river, depositing thirty-six thousand francs on the merchant's counter.

When Mme. Loisel returned the ornament to Mme. Forestier, she said to him, with a crushed expression: "You should have given it back to me earlier, for I have not been

to me earlier, for I might have needed it. She did not open the box, which her friend feared. If

If she had noticed the substitution, what would she have thought? Wouldn't she have taken her for a thief

?

Mme Loisel knew the horrible life of the needy. She took her side, moreover, suddenly, heroically. This terrible debt had to be paid. She would pay. The maid was sent away; they changed their

change of accommodation; a garret was rented under the roofs. She knew the heavy work of the household, the odious tasks of the kitchen. She washed the dishes,

wearing out her pink nails on the greasy pots and pans. She soaped the dirty laundry,

shirts and dishcloths, which she dried on a rope; she took the rubbish down to the street every morning

the rubbish down to the street each morning, and carried the water upstairs, stopping at each floor to blow. And, dressed as a common woman

dressed as a common woman, she went to the fruit shop, the grocer's, and the butcher's, basket in hand, haggling,

insulted, defending penny by penny her miserable money. Every month she had to pay notes, renew others

to pay bills, to renew others, to get time. The husband worked in the evenings, tidying up the accounts of a shopkeeper, and at night, often

The husband worked in the evenings to clean up a shopkeeper's accounts, and at night he often made copies at five cents a page.

And this life lasted ten years.

At the end of ten years, they had returned everything, everything, with the rate of usury, and the accumulation of interest

superimposed.

Mme Loisel seemed old now. She had become the strong, hard, rough woman of poor households.

of poor households. She had a bad comb-over, with crooked skirts and red hands, she spoke loudly, washed the floors with

and washed the floors with a lot of water. But sometimes, when her husband was in the office, she would sit by the window and think about

But sometimes, when her husband was in the office, she would sit by the window and think of that evening, that ball, when she had been so beautiful and so feted. What would have happened if she had not lost that ornament?

Who knows? Who knows? How singular and changeable life is! How little it takes to lose or save you!

to lose or save you!

Now, one Sunday, as she had gone for a walk on the Champs-Élysées to relieve herself of the work of the week, she

of the week, she suddenly saw a woman walking a child.

It was Mme Forestier, always young, always beautiful, always seductive. Mme Loisel felt moved. Was she going to talk to her? Yes, of course. And now that she had paid, she would tell him everything.

tell him everything. Why not?

She approached.

"Hello, Jeanne."

The other did not recognise her, surprised to be called so familiarly by this bourgeois woman.

She stammered:

"But... madame! I don't know... You must be mistaken.

No. I am Mathilde Loisel."

Her friend uttered a cry:

"Oh! ... my poor Mathilde, how you are changed! ...

Yes, I have had some very hard days, since I last saw you; and many miseries... and all because of you

!...

Because of me... What do you mean?

You remember that river of diamonds that you lent me to go to the Ministry party.

Yes. Well?

Well, I lost it.

What! since you brought it back to me.

I brought you another one just like it. And we've been paying for it for ten years. You understand that it

was not easy for us, who had nothing... At last it's over, and I'm really happy."

Mme Forestier had stopped.

"You say you bought a river of diamonds to replace mine?

Yes. You hadn't noticed, had you? They were quite the same." And she smiled with a proud and naive joy. Mme. Forestier, greatly moved, took both her hands.

"Oh, my poor Mathilde! But mine was a fake. It was worth five hundred francs at most!