The Sisters Rondoli, and Other Stories. Guy de Maupassant
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into a corner, and said: 'It is most idiotic to go to this place.' As it was too late for him to change his mind then, I answered: 'Well, you should not have come.'
"He did not answer, and I felt very much inclined to laugh when I saw how furious he looked. He certainly looks like a squirrel, but then every one of us has retained the type of some animal or other as the mark of primal race. How many people have jaws like a bulldog, or heads like goats, rabbits, foxes, horses, or oxen. Paul was a squirrel turned into a man. He had its bright, quick eyes, its hair, its pointed nose, its small, fine, supple, active body, and a certain mysterious resemblance in his general bearing: in fact, a similarity of movements, of gestures, and of bearing which might almost be taken for an atavism.
"At last we both went to sleep—the noisy slumber of the railway carriage, which is broken by horrible cramps in the arms and neck, and by the sudden stopping of the train.
"We woke up as we were going along the Rhone. Soon the continuous noise of the grasshoppers came in through the window, a cry which seems to be the voice of the warm earth, the song of Provence. It seemed to instill into our looks, our breasts, and our souls the light and happy feeling of the south, the smell of the parched earth, of the stony and light soil of the olive tree with its grey-green foliage.
"When the train stopped again a porter ran along the train calling out 'Valence' in a sonorous voice, with an accent that again gave us that taste of Provence which the shrill note of the grasshoppers had already imparted to us.
"Nothing happened till we got to Marseilles, where we breakfasted, but when we returned to our carriage we found a woman installed there. Paul, with a delighted look at me, unconsciously gave his short moustache a twirl, and passed his fingers like a comb through his hair, which had become slightly disordered with the night's journey. Then he sat down opposite the newcomer.
"Whenever I happen to see a new face, either while travelling or in society, I become obsessed with the desire to find out what character, mind, and intellectual capacities are hidden beneath those features.
"She was a young and pretty woman, a native of the south of France certainly, with splendid eyes, beautiful, wavy black hair, which was so thick, long, and strong that it seemed almost too heavy for her head. She was dressed with a certain southern bad taste which made her look a little vulgar. Her regular features had none of the grace and finish of the refined races, of that slight delicacy which members of the aristocracy inherit from their birth, and which is the hereditary mark of blue blood.
"Her bracelets were too big to be of gold; she wore earrings with white stones too big to be diamonds, and she belonged unmistakably to the people. One would guess that she would talk too loud, and use exaggerated gestures.
"When the train started she remained motionless in her place, in the attitude of a woman who was in a rage. She had not even looked at us.
"Paul began to talk to me, evidently with an eye to effect, trying to attract her attention, as shopkeepers expose their choice wares to catch the notice of passers-by. She did not seem to hear.
"'Toulon! Ten minute's wait! Refreshment room!' the porter shouted.
"Paul motioned to me to get out, and, as soon as we were on the platform, he said:
"'I wonder who on earth she can be?'
"I began to laugh. 'I am sure I don't know, and I don't in the least care.'
"He was quite excited.
"'She is an uncommonly fresh and pretty girl. What eyes she has, and how cross she looks. She must be dreadfully worried, for she takes no notice of anything.'
"'You will have all your trouble for nothing,' I ventured.
"He began to lose his temper.
"'I am not taking any trouble, my dear fellow. I think her an extremely pretty woman, that is all. If one could only speak to her! But I don't know how to begin. Can't you give me an idea? Can't you guess who she is?'
"'Upon my word, I cannot. I rather think she is some actress who is going to rejoin her company after some love adventure.'
"He seemed quite upset, as if I had said something insulting.
"'What makes you think that? On the contrary, I think she looks most respectable.'
"'Just look at her bracelets,' I said, 'her earrings, and her whole dress. I should not be the least surprised if she were a dancer or a circus rider, but most likely a dancer. Her whole style smacks very much of the theatre.'
"He evidently did not like the idea.
"'She is much too young, I am sure; why, she is hardly twenty.'
"'Well,' I replied, 'there are many things which one can do before one is twenty; dancing and reciting are among them, without counting another business which is, perhaps, her sole occupation.'
"'Take your seats for Nice, Ventimiglia,' the guards and porters called out.
"We got in; our fellow-passenger was eating an orange. She certainly was not refined. She had spread her handkerchief on her knees, and the way in which she tore off the peel and opened her mouth to put in the pieces, and then spat the pips out of the window, showed that her education had been decidedly vulgar. She seemed more unapproachable than ever, and swallowed the fruit with an exceedingly comic air of rage.
"Paul devoured her with his eyes, and tried to attract her attention and excite her curiosity, but in spite of his talk and of the manner in which he brought in well-known names, she did not pay the least attention to him.
"After passing Fréjus and St. Raphael, the train passes through a veritable garden, a paradise of roses, of groves of oranges and lemons covered with fruit and flowers at the same time. That delightful coast from Marseilles to Genoa is a kingdom of perfumes in a land of flowers.
"June is the time to see it, when in every narrow valley and on every slope the most exquisite flowers are growing luxuriantly. And the roses! fields, hedges, groves of roses! They climb up the walls, blossom on the roofs, hang from the trees, peep out from among the bushes; they are white, red, yellow, large and small, ordinary and quiet, with a simple dress, or full in brilliant and heavy toilettes. Their powerful perfume makes the air heavy and relaxing, while the still more penetrating lasting odour of the orange blossoms sweetens the atmosphere, till it might almost be called a sugarplum for the olfactory nerve.
"The shore, with its brown rocks, was bathed by the motionless Mediterranean. The hot summer sun stretched like a fiery cloth over the mountains, over the long expanses of sand, and over the hard, set blue sea. The train went on, through the tunnels, along the slopes, above the water, on straight, wall-like viaducts, and a soft, vague, saltish smell came up, a smell of drying seaweed, mingled at times with the strong, heavy perfume of the flowers.
"But Paul neither saw, nor looked at, nor smelled anything, for our fellow-traveller engrossed all his attention.
"When we got to Cannes, as he wished to speak to me, he signed to me to get out again, and as soon as I had done so he took me by the arm.
"'Do you know she is really charming. Just look at her eyes; and I never saw anything like her hair.'
"'Don't excite yourself,' I replied. 'Tackle her, if you have any intentions that way. She does not look impregnable, I fancy, although she appears to be a little bit grumpy.'
"'Why don't you speak to her?' he said. 'I don't know what to say, for I am always terribly stupid at first; I can never make advances to a woman in the street. I follow them, go round and round them, quite close to them, but I never know what to say at first. I only once tried to enter into conversation with a woman in that way. As I clearly saw that she was waiting for me to make overtures, and as I felt bound to say something, I stammered out, "I hope you are quite well, Madame?" She laughed in my face, and I made my escape.'
"I promised Paul to do all I could to bring about a conversation, and when we had taken our places again, I politely asked our neighbour:
"'Have