《martin guerre》

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Arguing thus; he bent over the prostrate man with a cynical laugh:

one might have thought he was Satan watching the departure of a soul

too utterly lost to escape him。



〃Alas! alas!〃 cried the sufferer; 〃may God have mercy on me!  I feel

my end is near。〃



〃Bah! comrade; drive away these dismal thoughts。  Your leg pains you

well they will cut it off!  Think only of the other one; and trust

in Providence!〃



〃Water; a drop of water; for Heaven's sake!〃 The sufferer was in a

high fever。  The would…be nurse looked round and saw a jug of water;

towards which the dying man extended a trembling hand。  A truly

infernal idea entered his mind。  He poured some water into a gourd

which hung from his belt; held it to the lips of the wounded man; and

then withdrew it。



〃Oh!  I thirst…that water!  。  。  。  For pity's sake; give me some!〃



〃Yes; but on one condition you must tell me your whole history。〃



〃Yes 。  。  。  but give me water!〃



His tormentor allowed him to swallow a mouthful; then overwhelmed him

with questions as to his family; his friends and fortune; and

compelled him to answer by keeping before his eyes the water which

alone could relieve the fever which devoured him。  After this often

interrupted interrogation; the sufferer sank back exhausted; and

almost insensible。  But; not yet satisfied; his companion conceived

the idea of reviving him with a few drops of brandy; which quickly

brought back the fever; and excited his brain sufficiently to enable

him to answer fresh questions。  The doses of spirit were doubled

several times; at the risk of ending the unhappy man's days then and

there: Almost delirious; his head feeling as if on fire; his

sufferings gave way to a feverish excitement; which took him back to

other places and other times: he began to recall the days of his

youth and the country where he lived。  But his tongue was still

fettered by a kind of reserve: his secret thoughts; the private

details of his past life were not yet told; and it seemed as though

he might die at any moment。  Time was passing; night already coming

on; and it occurred to the merciless questioner to profit by the

gathering darkness。  By a few solemn words he aroused the religious

feelings of the sufferer; terrified him by speaking of the

punishments of another life and the flames of hell; until to the

delirious fancy of the sick man he took the form of a judge who could

either deliver him to eternal damnation or open the gates of heaven

to him。  At length; overwhelmed by a voice which resounded in his ear

like that of a minister of God; the dying man laid bare his inmost

soul before his tormentor; and made his last confession to him。



Yet a few moments; and the executionerhe deserves no other name

hangs over his victim; opens his tunic; seizes some papers and a few

coins; half draws his dagger; but thinks better of it; then;

contemptuously spurning the victim; as the other surgeon had done



〃I might kill you;〃 he says; 〃but it would be a useless murder; it

would only be hastening your last Sigh by an hour or two; and

advancing my claims to your inheritance by the same space of time。〃



And he adds mockingly:



〃Farewell; my brother!〃



The wounded soldier utters a feeble groan; the adventurer leaves the

room。





Four months later; a woman sat at the door of a house at one end ;of

the village of Artigues; near Rieux; and played with a child about

nine or ten years of age。  Still young; she had the brown complexion

of Southern women; and her beautiful black hair fell in curls about

her face。  Her flashing eyes occasionally betrayed hidden passions;

concealed; however; beneath an apparent indifference and lassitude;

and her wasted form seemed to acknowledge the existence of some

secret grief。  An observer would have divined a shattered life; a

withered happiness; a soul grievously wounded。



Her dress was that of a wealthy peasant; and she wore one of the long

gowns with hanging sleeves which were in fashion in the sixteenth

century。  The house in front of which she sat belonged to her; so

also the immense field which adjoined the garden。  Her attention was

divided between the play of her son and the orders she was giving to

an old servant; when an exclamation from the child startled her。



〃Mother!〃 he cried; 〃mother; there he is!〃



She looked where the child pointed; and saw a young boy turning the

corner of the street。



〃Yes;〃 continued the child; 〃that is the lad who; when I was playing

with the other boys yesterday; called me all sorts of bad names。〃



〃What sort of names; my child?〃



〃There was one I did not understand; but it must have been a very bad

one; for the other boys all pointed at me; and left me alone。  He

called meand he said it was only what his mother had told himhe

called me a wicked bastard!〃



His mother's face became purple with indignation。  〃What!〃 she cried;

〃they dared!  。  。  。  What an insult!〃



〃What does this bad word mean; mother?〃 asked the child; half

frightened by her anger。  〃Is that what they call poor children who

have no father?〃



His mother folded him in her arms。  〃Oh!〃 she continued; 〃it is an

infamous slander!  These people never saw your father; they have only

been here six years; and this is the eighth since he went away; but

this is abominable!  We were married in that church; we came at once

to live in this house; which was my marriage portion; and my poor

Martin has relations and friends here who will not allow his wife to

be insulted〃



〃Say rather; his widow;〃 interrupted a solemn voice。



〃Ah! uncle!〃 exclaimed the woman; turning towards an old man who had

just emerged from the house。



〃Yes; Bertrande;〃 continued the new…comer; 〃you must get reconciled

to the idea that my nephew has ceased to exist。  I am sure he was not

such a fool as to have remained all this time without letting us hear

from him。  He was not the fellow to go off at a tangent; on account

of a domestic quarrel which you have never vouchsafed to explain to

me; and to retain his anger during all these eight years!  Where did

he go?  What did he do?  We none of us know; neither you nor I; nor

anybody else。  He is assuredly dead; and lies in some graveyard far

enough from here。  May God have mercy on his soul!〃



Bertrande; weeping; made the sign of the cross; and bowed her head

upon her hands。



〃Good…bye; Sanxi;〃 said the uncle; tapping the child's;' cheek。

Sanxi turned sulkily away。



There was certainly nothing specially attractive about the uncle: he

belonged to a type which children instinctively dislike; false;

crafty; with squinting eyes which continually appeared to contradict

his honeyed tongue。



〃Bertrande;〃 he said; 〃your boy is like his father before him; and

only answers my kindness with rudeness。〃



〃Forgive him;〃 answered the mother; 〃he is very young; and does not

understand the respect due to his father's uncle。  I will teach him

better things; he will soon learn that he ought to be grateful for

the care you have taken of his little property。〃



〃No doubt; no doubt;〃 said the uncle; trying hard to smile。  〃I will

give you a good account of it; for I shall only have to reckon with

you two in future。  Come; my dear; believe me; your husband is really

dead; and you have sorrowed quite enough for a good…for…nothing

fellow。  Think no more of him。〃



So saying; he departed; leaving the poor young woman a prey to the

saddest thoughts。



Bertrande de Rolls; naturally gifted with extreme sensibility; on

which a careful education had imposed due restraint; had barely

completed her twelfth year when she was married to Martin Guerre; a

boy of about the same age; such precocious unions being then not

uncommon; especially in the Southern provinces。  They were generally

settled by considerations of family interest; assisted by the

extremely early development habitual to the climate。  The young

couple lived for a long time as brother and sister; and Bertrande;

thus early familiar with the idea of domestic happiness; bestowed her

whole affection on the youth whom she had been taught to regard as

her life's companion。  He was the Alpha and Omega of her existence;

all her love; all her thoughts; were given to him; and when their

marriage was at length completed; the birth of a son seemed only

another link in the already long existing bond of union。  But; as

many wise men have remarked; a uniform happiness; which only attaches

women more and more; has often upon men a precisely contrary effect;

and so it was with Martin Guerre。  Of a lively and excitable

temperament; he wearied of a yoke which had been imposed so early;

and; anxious to see the world and enjoy some freedom; he one day took

advantage of a domestic difference; in which Bertrande owned herself

to have been wrong; and left his house and family。  He was sought and

awaited 
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