Guy de Maupassant complete short stories volume 2 - Penn State ...

“‘That is my uncle, the brother of my father, my uncle!’
“I gave him a ten-cent tip. He thanked me:
“‘God bless you, my young sir!’
“He spoke like a poor man receiving alms. I couldn’t help
thinking that he must have begged over there! My sisters looked
at me, surprised at my generosity. When I returned the two
francs to my father, my mother asked me in surprise:
“‘Was there three francs’ worth? That is impossible.’
“I answered in a firm voice
“‘I gave ten cents as a tip.’
“My mother started, and, staring at me, she exclaimed:
“‘You must be crazy! Give ten cents to that man, to that vagabond—’
“She stopped at a look from my father, who was pointing at
his son-in-law. Then everybody was silent.
“Before us, on the distant horizon, a purple shadow seemed
to rise out of the sea. It was Jersey.
“As we approached the breakwater a violent desire seized me
once more to see my Uncle Jules, to be near him, to say to him
something consoling, something tender. But as no one was eating
any more oysters, he had disappeared, having probably gone
below to the dirty hold which was the home of the poor wretch.”
Guy de Maupassant
59
THE THE MODEL MODEL
MODEL
Curving like a crescent moon, the little town of Etretat, with
its white cliffs, its white, shingly beach and its blue sea, lay in
the sunlight at high noon one July day. At either extremity of
this crescent its two “gates,” the smaller to the right, the larger
one at the left, stretched forth—one a dwarf and the other a
colossal limb—into the water, and the bell tower, almost as tall
as the cliff, wide below, narrowing at the top, raised its pointed
summit to the sky.
On the sands beside the water a crowd was seated watching
the bathers. On the terrace of, the Casino another crowd, seated
or walking, displayed beneath the brilliant sky a perfect flower
patch of bright costumes, with red and blue parasols embroidered
with large flowers in silk.
On the walk at the end of the terrace, other persons, the
restful, quiet ones, were walking slowly, far from the dressy
throng.
A young man, well known and celebrated as a painter, Jean
Sumner, was walking with a dejected air beside a wheeled chair
in which sat a young woman, his wife. A manservant was gen-