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Yvette

H >> Henri Rene Guy de Maupassant >> Yvette




It was the Marquise, who had come in and seated herself at the
piano.

Yvette had wings now. She was flying through a clear night, above
the wood and streams. She was flying with delight, opening and
closing her wings, borne by the wind as by a caress. She moved in
the air, which kissed her skin, and she went so fast, so fast, that
she had no time to see anything beneath her, and she found herself
seated on the bank of a pond with a line in her hand; she was
fishing.

Something pulled on the cord, and when she drew it out of the water,
it bore a magnificent pearl necklace, which she had longed for some
time ago. She was not at all astonished at this deed, and she looked
at Servigny, who had come to her side--she knew not how. He was
fishing also, and drew out of the river a wooden horse.

Then she had anew the feeling of awaking, and she heard some one
calling down stairs. Her mother had said:

"Put out the candle." Then Servigny's voice rose, clear and jesting:

"Put out your candle, Mam'zelle Yvette."

And all took up the chorus: "Mam'zelle Yvette, put out your candle."

She again poured chloroform on the cotton, but, as she did not want
to die, she placed it far enough from her face to breathe the fresh
air, while nevertheless her room was filled with the asphyxiating
odor of the narcotic, for she knew that some one was coming, and
taking a suitable posture, a pose of the dead, she waited.

The Marquise said: "I am a little uneasy! That foolish child has
gone to sleep leaving the light on her table. I will send Clemence
to put it out, and to shut the balcony window, which is wide open."

And soon the maid rapped on the door calling: "Mademoiselle,
Mademoiselle!" After a moment's silence, she repeated:
"Mademoiselle, Madame the Marquise begs you to put out your candle
and shut the window."

Clemence waited a little, then knocked louder, and cried:

"Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle!"

As Yvette did not reply, the servant went away and reported to the
Marquise:

"Mademoiselle must have gone to sleep, her door is bolted, and I
could not awaken her."

Madame Obardi murmured:

"But she must not stay like that,"

Then, at the suggestion of Servigny, they all gathered under the
window, shouting in chorus:

"Hip! hip! hurrah! Mam'zelle Yvette."

Their clamor rose in the calm night, through the transparent air
beneath the moon, over the sleeping country; and they heard it die
away in the distance like the sound of a disappearing train.

As Yvette did not answer the Marquise said: "I only hope that
nothing has happened. I am beginning to be afraid."

Then Servigny, plucking red roses from a big rosebush trained along
the wall and buds not yet opened, began to throw them into the room
through the window.

At the first rose that fell at her side, Yvette started and almost
cried out. Others fell upon her dress, others upon her hair, while
others going over her head fell upon the bed, covering it with a
rain of flowers.

The Marquise, in a choking voice, cried: "Come, Yvette, answer."

Then Servigny declared: "Truly this is not natural; I am going to
climb up by the balcony."

But the Chevalier grew indignant.

"Now, let me do it," he said. "It is a great favor I ask; it is too
good a means, and too good a time to obtain a rendezvous."

All the rest, who thought the young girl was joking, cried: "We
protest! He shall not climb up."

But the Marquise, disturbed, repeated: "And yet some one must go and
see."

The Prince exclaimed with a dramatic gesture:

"She favors the Duke, we are betrayed."

"Let us toss a coin to see who shall go up," said the Chevalier. He
took a five-franc piece from his pocket, and began with the Prince.

"Tail," said he. It was head.

The Prince tossed the coin in his turn saying to Saval: "Call,
Monsieur."

Saval called "Head." It was tail.

The Prince then gave all the others a chance, and they all lost.

Servigny, who was standing opposite him, exclaimed in his insolent
way: "PARBLEU! he is cheating!"

The Russian put his hand on his heart and held out the gold piece to
his rival, saying: "Toss it yourself, my dear Duke."

Servigny took it and spinning it up, said: "Head." It was tail.

He bowed and pointing to the pillar of the balcony said: "Climb up,
Prince." But the Prince looked about him with a disturbed air.

"What are you looking for?" asked the Chevalier.

"Well,--I--would--like--a ladder." A general laugh followed.

Saval, advancing, said: "We will help you."

He lifted him in his arms, as strong as those of Hercules, telling
him:

"Now climb to that balcony."

The Prince immediately clung to it, and. Saval letting him go, he
swung there, suspended in the air, moving his legs in empty space.

Then Servigny, seeing his struggling legs which sought a resting
place, pulled them downward with all his strength; the hands lost
their grip and the Prince fell in a heap on Monsieur de Belvigne,
who was coming to aid him. "Whose turn next?" asked Servigny. No one
claimed the privilege.

"Come, Belvigne, courage!"

"Thank you, my dear boy, I am thinking of my bones."

"Come, Chevalier, you must be used to scaling walls."

"I give my place to you, my dear Duke."

"Ha, ha, that is just what I expected."

Servigny, with a keen eye, turned to the pillar. Then with a leap,
clinging to the balcony, he drew himself up like a gymnast and
climbed over the balustrade.

All the spectators, gazing at him, applauded. But he immediately
reappeared, calling:

"Come, quick! Come, quick! Yvette is unconscious." The Marquise
uttered a loud cry, and rushed for the stairs.

The young girl, her eyes closed, pretended to be dead. Her mother
entered distracted, and threw her self upon her.

"Tell me what is the matter with her, what is the matter with her?"

Servigny picked up the bottle of chloroform which had fallen upon
the floor.

"She has drugged herself," said he.

He placed his ear to her heart; then he added:

"But she is not dead; we can resuscitate her. Have you any ammonia?"

The maid, bewildered, repeated: "Any what, Monsieur?"

"Any smelling-salts."

"Yes, Monsieur." "Bring them at once, and leave the door open to
make a draft of air."

The Marquise, on her knees, was sobbing: "Yvette! Yvette, my
daughter, my daughter, listen, answer me, Yvette, my child. Oh, my
God! my God! what has she done?"

The men, frightened, moved about without speaking, bringing water,
towels, glasses, and vinegar. Some one said: "She ought to be
undressed." And the Marquise, who had lost her head, tried to
undress her daughter; but did not know what she was doing. Her hands
trembled and faltered, and she groaned:

"I cannot,--I cannot--"

The maid had come back bringing a druggist's bottle which Servigny
opened and from which he poured out half upon a handkerchief. Then
he applied it to Yvette's nose, causing her to choke.

"Good, she breathes," said he. "It will be nothing."

And he bathed her temples, cheeks, and neck with the pungent liquid.

Then he made a sign to the maid to unlace the girl, and when she had
nothing more on than a skirt over her chemise, he raised her in his
arms and carried her to the bed, quivering, moved by the odor and
contact of her flesh. Then she was placed in bed. He arose very
pale.

"She will come to herself," he said, "it is nothing." For he had
heard her breathe in a continuous and regular way. But seeing all
the men with their eyes fixed on Yvette in bed, he was seized with a
jealous irritation, and advanced toward them. "Gentlemen," he said,
"there are too many of us in this room; be kind enough to leave us
alone,--Monsieur Saval and me--with the Marquise."

He spoke in a tone which was dry and full of authority.

Madame Obardi had grasped her lover, and with her head uplifted
toward him she cried to him:

"Save her, oh, save her!"

But Servigny turning around saw a letter on the table. He seized it
with a rapid movement, and read the address. He understood and
thought: "Perhaps it would be better if the Marquise should not know
of this," and tearing open the envelope, he devoured at a glance the
two lines it contained:

"I die so that I may not become a kept woman."
"Yvette."

"Adieu, my dear mother, pardon."

"The devil!" he thought, "this calls for reflection." And he hid the
letter in his pocket.

Then he approached the bed, and immediately the thought came to him
that the young girl had regained consciousness but that she dared
not show it, from shame, from humiliation, and from fear of
questioning. The Marquise had fallen on her knees now, and was
weeping, her head on the, foot of the bed. Suddenly she exclaimed:

"A doctor, we must have a doctor!"

But Servigny, who had just said something in a low tone to Saval,
replied to her: "No, it is all over. Come, go out a minute, just a
minute, and I promise you that she will kiss you when you come
back." And the Baron, taking Madame Obardi by the arm, led her from
the room.

Then Servigny, sitting-by the bed, took Yvette's hand and said:
"Mam'zelle, listen to me."

She did not answer. She felt so well, so soft and warm in bed, that
she would have liked never to move, never to speak, and to live like
that forever. An infinite comfort had encompassed her, a comfort the
like of which she had never experienced.

The mild night air coming in by velvety breaths touched her temples
in an exquisite almost imperceptible way. It was a caress like a
kiss of the wind, like the soft and refreshing breath of a fan made
of all the leaves of the trees and of all the shadows of the night,
of the mist of rivers, and of all the flowers too, for the roses
tossed up from below into her room and upon her bed, and the roses
climbing at her balcony, mingled their heavy perfume with the
healthful savor of the evening breeze.

She drank in this air which was so good, her eyes closed, her heart
reposing in the yet pervading intoxication of the drug, and she had
no longer at all the desire to die, but a strong, imperious wish to
live, to be happy--no matter how--to be loved, yes, to be loved.

Servigny repeated: "Mam'zelle Yvette, listen to me."

And she decided to open her eyes.

He continued, as he saw her reviving: "Come! Come! what does this
nonsense mean?"

She murmured: "My poor Muscade, I was so unhappy."

He squeezed her hand: "And that led you into a pretty scrape! Come,
you must promise me not to try it again."

She did not reply, but nodded her head slightly with an almost
imperceptible smile. He drew from his pocket the letter which he had
found on the table:

"Had I better show this to your mother?"

She shook her head, no. He knew not what more to say for the
situation seemed to him without an outlet. So he murmured

"My dear child, everyone has hard things to bear. I understand your
sorrow and I promise you--"

She stammered: "You are good."

They were silent. He looked at her. She had in her glance something
of tenderness, of weakness; and suddenly she raised both her arms,
as if she would draw him to her; he bent over her, feeling that she
called him, and their lips met.

For a long time they remained thus, their eyes closed.

But, knowing that he would lose his head, he drew away. She smiled
at him now, most tenderly; and, with both her hands clinging to his
shoulders, she held him.

"I am going to call your mother," he said.

She murmured: "Just a second more. I am so happy."

Then after a silence, she said in a tone so low that it could
scarcely be heard: "Will you love me very much? Tell me!"

He kneeled beside her bed, and kissing the hand she had given him,
said: "I adore you." But some one was walking near the door. He
arose with a bound, and called in his ordinary voice, which seemed
nevertheless a little ironical: "You may come in. It is all right
now."

The Marquise threw herself on her daughter, with both arms open, and
clasped her frantically, covering her countenance with tears, while
Servigny with radiant soul and quivering body went out upon the
balcony to breathe the fresh air of the night, humming to himself
the old couplet:

"A woman changeth oft her mind:
Yet fools still trust in womankind."

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