My Wife
It was at the close of a dinner party consisting of men, married men, old friends, who sometimes met together without their wives, like bachelors, as in former days. They had eaten for a long while, and had drunk a great deal, talked on every subject and renewed happy memories of days gone by, those glowing memories that cause the lips to smile and the heart to tremble in spite of oneself.
Someone said:
“Do you remember, George, our excursion to Saint-Germain with those two young girls from Montmartre?”
“Certainly! Of course I do.”
And they brought up details, this and that, a thousand little things, the thoughts of which gave them pleasure even now.
They happened to speak about marriage, and everyone said in a serious voice: “Oh! if I had it to do over again! …” George Duportin added: “It is strange how easily you drop into it. You make up your mind never to take a wife, and then in the spring you go away into the country; the weather is warm; the summer promises well; everything is in bloom; you meet a young girl at a friend’s house … presto! it is done. You come home married.”
Pierre Létoile cried out: “Just so! that’s my story, only in my case the circumstances were peculiar …”
His friend interrupted him: “As for you, you have nothing to complain of. You surely have the most charming wife in the world, she is pretty, amiable, in fact, perfect; certainly you are the happiest of us all.”
The former replied:
“I’m not responsible for that.”
“Why not?”
“It is true that I have a perfect wife, but I married her in spite of myself.”
“Nonsense.”
“Yes—This is the story: I was thirty years old, and I thought no more of marrying than of hanging myself. Young girls always seemed to me insipid, and I was exceedingly fond of pleasure.
“In the month of May I was invited to the wedding of my cousin Simon d’Erabel, in Normandy. It was a real Norman wedding. The people sat down at table at five o’clock in the afternoon; and at eleven o’clock they were still eating. On this occasion my partner was a Miss Dumoulin, the daughter of a retired colonel, a blonde young woman with a military air, well-built, fearless and loquacious. She monopolized me completely all day long, took me walking in the park, made me dance whether I wanted to or not, and bored me.
“I said to myself: ‘I’ll bear it today, but tomorrow I’ll escape. I’ve had enough.’
“About eleven o’clock at night the women retired to their rooms and the men remained to smoke while drinking, or to drink while smoking if you prefer.
“Through the open window could be seen the rustic ball. Country lads and lasses skipped in a circle while they sang in a loud voice the tune of a wild dance feebly accompanied by two violinists and a clarinettist who used the top of a large kitchen table as a platform. The tumultuous song of the country people sometimes completely drowned the sound of the instruments; and the feeble music, torn to pieces by their uncontrolled voices, seemed to fall from the sky in shreds, in small fragments of scattered notes. From two huge casks surrounded by flaming torches there poured drink for the crowd. Two men were busy rinsing the glasses, or bowls, in a tub so as to have them ready as quickly as possible to place under the faucets from which ran the red thread of wine or the golden thread of pure cider; and the thirsty dancers, the sedate elderly people, the perspiring girls, came there extending their arms to take, in their turn, whatever kind of cup they could find, and throwing back their heads took copious draughts of whichever drink they preferred. On one table was bread, butter, cheeses and sausages. Everybody swallowed a mouthful from time to time; and on the starlit field this healthy and energetic fête was a pleasure to behold and made me want to drink to the health of those huge casks, and eat hard bread with butter and a raw onion.
“A foolish desire took possession of me to take part in their festivities and I left my companions.
“I must acknowledge that I was then somewhat tipsy, and soon became quite drunk.
“I seized the hand of a strong peasant girl who was out of breath, and I made her skip around wildly until I was breathless. After drinking some more wine I seized another jolly girl and, to refresh myself, I swallowed a full bowl of cider, and I began to jump about like one possessed.
“I was supple, the lads were delighted, and watched me as they tried to imitate me; all the girls wanted to dance with me and they skipped about heavily, with cow-like grace.
“At last after many dances and glass after glass of wine and cider, I became so tipsy about two o’clock in the morning, that I could hardly stand up.
“I was conscious of my condition and I wanted to go to my bedroom. The château was asleep, silent, and sombre.
“I had no matches and everyone had gone to bed. As soon as I was inside the vestibule I was seized with dizziness: I had great difficulty in finding the banister; at last I came across it by chance, as I was groping about, and I sat down on the first step of the staircase trying to collect my ideas.
“My bedroom was on the second floor, the third door to the left. Happily I had not forgotten that. Confident that I remembered correctly, I got up again, but not without difficulty, and I began to go upstairs, step by step, my hands glued to the iron railing to prevent myself from falling, and trying my best not to make any noise.
“Three or four times my foot missed the following step, and I fell on my knees, but thanks to the strength of my arms and my great determination, I avoided rolling downstairs.
“At last I reached the second story, and ventured down the corridor, groping along the walls. Here was one door: I counted ‘One’; but a sudden dizziness made me let go the wall and turn round in an erratic circle that threw me against the other partition. I tried to return in a straight line. The passage was long and difficult, but at last I came up against the side wall and I once more carefully felt my way along it until I came to another door. To make certain that I was not mistaken, I again counted aloud: ‘Two’; and I continued walking. After some time I found the third, and I said: ‘Three, that’s mine,’ and as I turned the key in the lock the door opened. In spite of my confusion I thought, ‘as the door opens it must be my room,’ and I advanced in the darkness after closing the door softly.
“I came up against something soft, my couch, and I stretched myself out on it.
“In my condition I did not try to find my night table, my candlestick, or my matches. It would have taken me two hours or so. It would have taken me as long again to undress, and perhaps even then I would not have succeeded, so I did not attempt it.
“I took off my shoes, unbuttoned my vest which felt uncomfortably tight, and loosening my trousers, slept most soundly.
“I must have been sleeping a long while, when I was suddenly awakened by a penetrating voice calling out quite near me: ‘What, you lazy girl, still asleep? Do you know that it is ten o’clock?’
“A woman’s voice replied: ‘Already! I was so tired yesterday.’
“Half asleep, I asked myself what this conversation meant.
“Where was I? What had I done?
“My mind wandered, as it was still wrapped in a thick cloud. The first voice replied: ‘I will open your curtains.’
“And I heard steps approaching. I sat up completely bewildered. Then a hand was placed upon my head. I made a quick movement. The voice demanded emphatically: ‘Who’s there?’ I took good care not to answer. Two angry hands caught hold of me. In my turn I seized someone, and a terrible struggle began. We fought, overturning the furniture and striking against the walls.
“The woman’s voice cried out in a frightened tone: ‘Help, help!’
“The servants, the neighbours, and the frightened ladies all hurried to the scene. They opened the shutters, and drew back the curtains. I was grappling with Colonel Dumoulin!
“I had slept beside his daughter’s bed.
“As soon as we had been separated I fled to my room, stupefied with fright. I locked myself in and sat down, placing my feet on a chair, for my shoes were in the young woman’s room.
“I heard a great commotion throughout the château, doors opening and shutting, whispering, and rapid steps.
“After half an hour someone knocked at my door. I cried, ‘Who’s there?’ It was my uncle, the father of the young man who had been married the previous evening, and I let him in.
“He was pale and furiously angry, and he was very severe with me. ‘You have conducted yourself in my house like a cad, do you hear?’ Then in a softer tone he added: ‘What a damned idiot you are to let them catch you there at ten o’clock in the morning! You slept like a log in that room instead of going as soon after as possible.
“I exclaimed: ‘But uncle, I assure you that there was nothing amiss, I mistook my door because I was tipsy.’
“He shrugged his shoulders: ‘Go along, don’t tell me any such nonsense.’ I raised my hand. ‘I swear to you on my honour.’ My uncle continued: ‘Yes, that’s all right, you are in duty bound to say that.’
“I became angry in my turn, and I told him all about my mishap. He gazed at me in astonishment, not knowing what he ought to believe.
“Then he went out to confer with the colonel. I also learned that a kind of court composed of mothers had been formed, and that the different phases of the situation had been submitted to them.
“An hour later he returned, sat down with the air of a judge, and began: ‘Whichever way it is, I see only one way out of it for you and that is to marry Miss Dumoulin.’
“I was so frightened that I jumped up.
“ ‘Do that! never in the world!’
“He gravely asked: ‘What do you intend to do then?’
“I artlessly replied: ‘Well—I shall leave as soon as my boots are returned.’ My uncle replied: ‘No joking if you please. The colonel has resolved to blow out your brains as soon as he sees you, and you may be sure it is not a vain threat. I suggested a duel, but he replied: “No, I tell you I will blow his brains out.”
“ ‘Let us now look at this question from another standpoint.
“ ‘Either you ruined this child—so much the worse for you, my boy, young girls should not be treated thus—or else you made a mistake because you were tipsy, as you say. Then so much the worse for you. You should not have placed yourself in such a foolish position. Whichever way it is the young girl has lost her reputation, for the explanations of a drunkard are never believed. In this case she is the real victim, the only victim. Think it over.’
“And he departed while I cried after him: ‘Say what you like, I won’t marry her.’
“After this I remained alone for an hour.
“Then my aunt came in her turn. She was weeping. She tried every way of reasoning with me. No one believed in my mistake. No one could believe that this young girl had forgotten to lock her door in a house full of people. The colonel had struck her and she had been sobbing all the morning. It was a terrible scandal that could not be effaced.
“And my good aunt added: ‘All the same, ask her hand in marriage; perhaps you may find means of escape while discussing the marriage contract.’ This view comforted me. And I consented to write my offer. An hour later I left for Paris.
“The next day I was advised that my suit had been accepted. So, in three weeks’ time, as I could not find an excuse, or evade it in any way, the banns were published, the invitations sent out, the contract signed, and one Monday morning I found myself in the chancel of a lighted church, by the side of a weeping young girl, having previously sworn to the mayor that I consented to take her as my companion—until the death of one of us.
“I had not seen her since, and I glanced sideways at her with a certain hostile astonishment. Well, she was not ugly; no, not in the least ugly. I said to myself, ‘There’s a woman who will not be very amusing every day.’
“She did not look at me once until evening, and never addressed a word to me.
“Toward the middle of the night I entered the nuptial chamber intending to tell her what I had decided to do, for I was master now.
“I found her seated in an armchair, dressed in her day clothes, her eyes red, and face pale. She arose as soon as I entered and came toward me with a serious air.
“ ‘Sir,’ said she to me, ‘I am willing to do what you order me. I will kill myself if you wish.’
“She looked so pretty in this heroic part, the daughter of the colonel, that I embraced her as I had a right to, and soon saw that I had not been cheated.
“I have been married five years, and I have never regretted it in the least.”
Pierre Létoile stopped speaking. His companions laughed. One of them said: “Marriage is a lottery; one should never choose numbers, those drawn at haphazard are the best.”
And the other added in conclusion: “Yes, but do not forget that it was the Providence that watches over drunkards, who chose for Pierre.”