Read Online A Life by Guy de Maupassant - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Guy de Maupassant
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catch sight of a corner of blue sea sparkling in the sunshine, with a sail visible in the distance, and she would be filled with unruly joy as though at the mysterious approach of imminent felicities.
In the fresh and gentle air of this place and amid the calm serenity of its smoothly curved horizons, she grew to love the solitude; and she would remain sitting on the hilltops for so long that little wild rabbits would come bounding past her feet.
Often she would start running along the clifftop, exhilarated by the lightness of the air and tremulous with the exquisite delight of being able to move about as effortlessly as the fishes in the water or the swallows in the sky.
She made memories wherever she went, like a sower casting seed upon the soil, memories of the kind so deep-rooted that they remain unto death. She felt as though she were strewing her heart amidst all the clefts and folds of these valleys.
She developed a passion for bathing. She would swim off into the distance, strong and bold, oblivious to the danger. It felt good to be in this cold, clear, blue water that lifted her up and rocked her to and fro. When she was far from the shore, she would lie on her back, her arms folded across her chest, and gaze into the deep blue of the sky broken only by the sudden flight of a swallow or the white silhouette of a seabird. From here nothing could be heard but the distant murmur of the waves breaking on the shingle and faint, indeterminate sounds coming off the land, which barely carried to her across the undulations of the waves. Then Jeanne would sit up in the water, let out piercing shrieks of sudden, frantic joy, and slap the surface of the sea with the palms of her hands.
Sometimes, when she ventured out too far, a fishing-boat would come and fetch her.
She would return to the house, pale from hunger but with a spring in her step, invigorated, a smile playing on her lips and eyes brimming with happiness.
The Baron, meanwhile, was planning great agricultural schemes. He wanted to experiment, to introduce reforms, to try out new equipment and acclimatize new breeds; and he spent part of his day in conversation with the farmers, who would shake their heads in sceptical distrust at his initiatives.
Frequently he would accompany the fishermen of Yport out to sea. Once he had visited all the caves and springs and rock pinnacles in the area, he wanted to fish as though he were just a simple fisherman like them.
On the days when there was a good breeze, when the plump hull rides the crest of the waves under a filling sail and from each side of the boat the long fishing-line stretches away down into the sea, pursued by shoals of mackerel, he would be there, his hand trembling with anxiety, holding the thin string that quivers as soon as a fish is hooked and begins to struggle.
He would go out by moonlight to lift the nets which had been laid the night before. He loved to hear the creaking of the mast and to breathe in the sharp gusts of cool night air; and having tacked about in search of his buoys, taking his bearings from the jagged outline of a rock, the roof of a churchtower, or the light-house at Fécamp, he loved just to drift quietly in the first rays of the rising sun, which glistened on the slimy backs of the large, fan-shaped skate and on the fat bellies of the turbot lying on the boat-deck
At each mealtime he would regale them with enthusiastic accounts of his excursions; and in turn Mama would tell him how many times she had walked up and down the great avenue of poplars, the one on the right by the Couillards' farm, the other being insufficiently in the sun.
Ever since she had been advised to 'exercise', she had become a determined walker. As soon as the dampness of early morning was gone, she would come downstairs on Rosalie's arm, wrapped in a cloak and two shawls, with a black hooded bonnet pulled down over her head, itself further covered by a red knitted scarf.
Then, dragging her left foot,
In the fresh and gentle air of this place and amid the calm serenity of its smoothly curved horizons, she grew to love the solitude; and she would remain sitting on the hilltops for so long that little wild rabbits would come bounding past her feet.
Often she would start running along the clifftop, exhilarated by the lightness of the air and tremulous with the exquisite delight of being able to move about as effortlessly as the fishes in the water or the swallows in the sky.
She made memories wherever she went, like a sower casting seed upon the soil, memories of the kind so deep-rooted that they remain unto death. She felt as though she were strewing her heart amidst all the clefts and folds of these valleys.
She developed a passion for bathing. She would swim off into the distance, strong and bold, oblivious to the danger. It felt good to be in this cold, clear, blue water that lifted her up and rocked her to and fro. When she was far from the shore, she would lie on her back, her arms folded across her chest, and gaze into the deep blue of the sky broken only by the sudden flight of a swallow or the white silhouette of a seabird. From here nothing could be heard but the distant murmur of the waves breaking on the shingle and faint, indeterminate sounds coming off the land, which barely carried to her across the undulations of the waves. Then Jeanne would sit up in the water, let out piercing shrieks of sudden, frantic joy, and slap the surface of the sea with the palms of her hands.
Sometimes, when she ventured out too far, a fishing-boat would come and fetch her.
She would return to the house, pale from hunger but with a spring in her step, invigorated, a smile playing on her lips and eyes brimming with happiness.
The Baron, meanwhile, was planning great agricultural schemes. He wanted to experiment, to introduce reforms, to try out new equipment and acclimatize new breeds; and he spent part of his day in conversation with the farmers, who would shake their heads in sceptical distrust at his initiatives.
Frequently he would accompany the fishermen of Yport out to sea. Once he had visited all the caves and springs and rock pinnacles in the area, he wanted to fish as though he were just a simple fisherman like them.
On the days when there was a good breeze, when the plump hull rides the crest of the waves under a filling sail and from each side of the boat the long fishing-line stretches away down into the sea, pursued by shoals of mackerel, he would be there, his hand trembling with anxiety, holding the thin string that quivers as soon as a fish is hooked and begins to struggle.
He would go out by moonlight to lift the nets which had been laid the night before. He loved to hear the creaking of the mast and to breathe in the sharp gusts of cool night air; and having tacked about in search of his buoys, taking his bearings from the jagged outline of a rock, the roof of a churchtower, or the light-house at Fécamp, he loved just to drift quietly in the first rays of the rising sun, which glistened on the slimy backs of the large, fan-shaped skate and on the fat bellies of the turbot lying on the boat-deck
At each mealtime he would regale them with enthusiastic accounts of his excursions; and in turn Mama would tell him how many times she had walked up and down the great avenue of poplars, the one on the right by the Couillards' farm, the other being insufficiently in the sun.
Ever since she had been advised to 'exercise', she had become a determined walker. As soon as the dampness of early morning was gone, she would come downstairs on Rosalie's arm, wrapped in a cloak and two shawls, with a black hooded bonnet pulled down over her head, itself further covered by a red knitted scarf.
Then, dragging her left foot,
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