The Diamond Necklace

BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT. Shc was ono of those prctty, charming girls, born as though through a mistake "f destiny, among a family of clerks. Sftó had no dot, nohopes; there was no way of her becoming known.understood, loved and married by a rich and distinguished man; andshe allowed herself to be married to a petty clerk at the Mmistry of Pnblie Instructinn. She dre.ssed simply, according to her means, but was imhappy as a person of no defined position; for women have no estáte nor race, their beauty, grace and charm taking the place of birth and family. Their innate shrewdness, their instinct of fashion, their subtility of mind, are their only hierarehy, and make the daughters of the poor the eqnals of thegreatestladies. When she sat down to dinner before the round table covered with a threeday-old cloth, opposite her husband, who as soon as he described the souptureen declared joyously: "Ah! good soup and boilcd meat! 1 know nothing better than that-" Slie dreamed oi line dinners, of glittering silver-plate, of tapestriea peopling the walls with bygone personages and strange birds in the niidst of a fairy forest; she dreanaed of exquisito dishes served in wonderful plates, of whispered compliments listened to with a sphinx-like smile as she eat the pink trout or a chicken wing. She had no line toilets, no jewels, and they were all she cared for, she thought herself fit for sueh things. She wishcd to picase; to bc envied, to be attraotivo, ancl sought after. She had a rich friend, an old schoolmate at the convent, whoni she would no longer go and see, so much did she grieve on lier return. And she wept whole days from grief, despair and distress. Now, one evening her husband came home with a proud manuer, and holding in bis hand a huge cnvelope. "Here," he said, "here is something for you." She quickly tore open the paper, and drew f rom it a printed card bearing these words : The Ministor of Public Instruction and Mme. Gcorges Ramponneau begM. and Mme. Loisel to do them the honor of passing the evening at the hotel of the Minister on Mondar, January 18. Instead of being enchanted, as her husband had hoped, sho threw the invitation on the table with rage, and mutteredj "Wliat do you want me to do with that?' "Wliy. my dear, I thought you would like it. You never go out, and this is an opportunity, and such a fine onc. I have had great trouble in getting it. Every one wants one; tney are much sought after, and are given to but few of the clerks. You will see all the official world there." She lookod at him augrily, and declared with impatience: "What do you want me tJ weai if I should go there?" He had not thought of tfcat. he stammered. "Why, the dress you wcar to the theater. It seems to me a very good one-" He was silent, stupeiied, distracted, when he saiv his wife wceping. Two large tears rolled slowly down froni the corners of her eyes towards the corner of her montli; he stamniered: "What is the matterP what is the matter?" But with a violent effort she eontroüed her grief, and answered culmly, as she riped her cheeks: "Nothing. Only I have no dress and consequently can not go to this fete. (live the card to some colloague whose wife is better fitted out than I." He was greatly distressed. He answered: "Come, Mathilde. How much would il cost, a suitable dress, which you could also wear at other times, something very afniple?" She reltccted a few moments, making up her accounts and thinking also of the sum she could ask for without drawing on herself au immediate refusal and a frightened cxclamation from the frugal elerk. At last she answered with iiesitation: "I don't know exactly, but it seems to me that with four hundred francs 1 could do it." . He became somewhat pale, for he had put uside just that sum to buy a gun and give himself sjome shooting the following sumnxer en the plain of Nftiiferre, with some friends who were going to shoot larks there. on Sundavs. , However he said: "Well, I wild give you four hundred francs. But do your best to have a handsome dress." ïhe day of the fete was at band, and Mme. Loisel seemed s:ul, ïcstless, anxious. Her toilet was rcady, however. Her husband said to her one evening. What is the matter with yon? Come, you have been very queer for three days." And shc answered: "It worries me to have no jewels, not :i stone, nothing to put on. I shall niake a wretched appearance. I had almosi ratfier not go that evening." He replied: "You can put on natural llowers. It is very chic at this scason. For ten francs you can get two or three magniiicent rases." Shc was not convinced. "No - there is nothing more humiliati ing than to look poverty stricken among j :i lot of ricli women." Bul her husband cxclaimcd: "IIow iiiolish you are! Go and find your friend, Mme. Forestier, and ask hor to lend you some jewels. You are intímate eñough with her for that." Sho uttered a cry of joy. "It ia Inic. I had no thought of it." The n"xt dáy she went to her friend j and told her of her distress. Mme. Korestior went to her looking' glass. (ook from it a large box, oponed it, and said to Mme. Loisel: "Ohoose, niy dear. ' She Brit saw bracelets, then a string ; of pearK then a Venetian cross of gold i and pfeeious stones of admirable workI maushi]!. She tried on the neekless bei fore Ihc glass, hesitated, could not de(;■!. lo l'ave tliein, to jcive them up. Slie stil] nsked: "líáve you nothin'g elseP" "Oh, yó. I.ook! I don't know what y .:■. want.1' Bnddenly she discovered in a black i galin Ijox a superb set of diamonds, and Lcr heart begaa tp beat with an erato desire. Her hands trembled as she took I up. Sho fastened it about her throat ovor lier high dross, and stood in_ ecstasy beforo herself. Then she asked, hesitating, full of agony: "Could vou lend me this, noth'ng but "Oh, yes, ccrtainly.'" She threw herself on her friend's neek, kissed hor passionatoly, then fled with lier treasure. The date of tho fete arrived. Mme. Loisel was a success. She was prettier than any - elegant.gracious, smilinand mad with joy. All the men looked at her, asked her name. sought to bc presented to her. All the attaches of the cabinet wislied to waltz with her. The minister noticcd her. She danccd with frenzy. with passion, intoxicated with pleasure, thinking of nothing in the triumph of her beauty, in the glory of lier success, in a kind of cloud of happiness made of all this homage, of all this admiration, of all these awakened desires, of this victory so complete and so sweet to the hearts of women. She left about 4 in the morning. Since midnight her husband had slept m a little deserted salon with thrce other gentlemen whose wives were amusing tnemselves vory much. He threw over her shoulders her wrap that he liad brought for her to go home in, a quict, every day garment; íts poverty-stricken look contrastad with the elegance of her ball costume. She felt it and wisbed to fleo, so as not to he remarked by thc other vromen who wrapped in rich fnrs. Loisel held her back. "Wait tliin. Yon willcatch cold outside; I will cali a cab." But she wouid not listen and rapidly descended the stairs. When they were in the Street they found no earriage, and they begau to look for one, erying after the eoachman whom they saw in the distance. They went towards the Seino in despair, shivcring. At last they found on the quay one of those oíd noctambulist coupes that aro seen only in Paris as the night comes on, as if thov were asharaed of their wretchedness during the day. He took them to their door on the street of Martyrs. and sadly they went up to their room. It was ended for her. And he was thinking that he must be at the ministry at 10 o clock. Sho took ott' her wraps that she had thrown over her shoulders, before the glass, in order to see hcrself OUCG moro in her glory. But smldenly she uttered a cry. She had no longcr tho necklaöe abont her neck! Her husband, already half undressed, asked: "What is the matter?" She turned towards him in a fright: "I have - 1 liave -I ..ave no longer Mme. Foresticr's neéklaoel" He stood tip distracled: "What! - How! - It is not possiblc!" And they looked in the folds of her dress, in her pockets, evcrywhere. They did not find it. He asked: "You are sure you still had it when you left the ball?" "Yes. I touched it in the Minister's vestibule." "But if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it f all. It must be in the cab." "Yes; it is probable. Have you the number?" "No. And you, did not yon look at it?" "No." And they looked at each other in consternation. At last Loisel dressed himself again. "I am going," he said, "over the track that wo went on foot, to see if I can not lind it again." And he left. She remaiiW dressed jufit as sha w:is, without the strength to go to bed, overeóme, on a chair, without lire, without thought. Her husband carne back about seven. He liad found nothing. He went to the Prefecture of Pólice, to the papers, to offer a reward, to the the cab eompanies, finally everywhere where a suspicion of hope impelled him. She waited all day in the same state of fright before this frightful disaster. Loisel carne back in the evening, with his face pale and sunken; he had discovered nothing. "You must write to your friend," he said, "that you have broken the clasp of her necklaoe, and that you nre haviug it repaired. That will give us time to return it." She wrote as he dictated. At tho end of a week they had lost aïl hope. And Loisel, iive years older, declared: "We must think how to replace the jewel." Next day they took the box in which it had been kept and went to the jeweler's, whose name they fonnd inside. He coHsulted his books. "It was not I, madame, who sold that necklace: I must have furnished the casket." Then they went from jeweler to jeweler, seeking for another necklace like it, Consulting their recollections, both of them ill with grief and despair. They found in a shop of the Palais Royal, a chaplet of diamonds that appeared to them exactly like the one they were looking for. It was worth about forty thousand francs. They could have if for thirty-six thousand. Then they begged the jeweler not to sell it for three days. And they made a condition that they would give it back for thirty-four thousand francs if the first was found again before the lat of February. Loisel possessed eightecn thousand francs, left him by his father. He borrowed the rest. He borrowed. asking a thousand francs of one, five hundred of another, iive louis here, thi-ce louis theft. He gave notes, took up ruinous contracts, aid business with the userers, with cvery kind of lenders. He eornpromisod the whole end of his existence, risked his signature, without knowing even if he could do so honorably. and appalled by the distress of the future, oy the black misery that was to strike him down, by the prospect of every kind of physical privation, and every kind of moral fortuno, he went for thc new necklace, placing on tho counter of the merchant thirty-six thousand francs. When Mme. Loisel brought back the parure to Mme. Forostier, the lattcr saiit with a gallina1 nianner: "You should have returned it sooner, for I might have wantod it." She did not open the casket, which her friend was in dread of. If she had geen the substitution, what would she have said? Would she not have taken her for a thief? Mme. Loisel became acquainted witli the horrible life of the indigent. She became resigned of a sudden, heroiealJy. It was necessary to pay this frightful debt. She would pay. They dismissed their servant; theychanged their lodgings; they took a mansard under the roof. Every month it was necessary to pay notes, to renew others and obtain time. The husband worked in the evening in maMng up the accounts of a merchant, and at night he often did copying at live sous a page. And this life went on for ten years. At the end of ten years they had paid back everything - everytbing at an usurious rate, and at cönipound intorest. Mme. Loisel now appeared to bc an old woman. She had beconie strong, hard, rough, and a wretehed housekeeper; shabby looking, with skirts ;ikew, and red hands. She spoke in a loud voice and scrubbed the lloors. But at times, when her husband was at the office, she took her seat near the window, and thought of that evening long ago, at that ball, when she was bo handsome and so feto'. Wliat would havo happcncd if shc haf. not lost that nocklacer Who knows! Who can teil? How odd life is, how changeable! What a little thing wili ruin you or save yon! Now one Sunday, as she was taking a walk in the Ghamps-Elysees to rest herself frpm her week's work, she suddenly saw a woman walking with a child. It was Mme. Forestier, still young, still beautiful, still attractive. Mme. Loisel was moved. Should she go and speak to her? Yes, surely; and now that she liad paid, she could teil her everything. Wny not? Sho went up to her. "Good morning, Jcanne." The other did not recognize her, being astonished at being addressed so familiarly by this poor woman. She stammered: "But- madame! - I don't know - you must bc mistaken." "No. 1 am Mathilde Loisol." Her friend uttered an exclamation: "Oli! - niv poor Mathilde, how changed j-ou are! "Yes, I have had many a hard day since I saw you; and many miseries - and all on your account'" "On mine - how so?" 'Do you remember that set of diantonda that you lent me to go to the fete at the roinister'sP" "Yes, wcll?" "How! Whj you brought it back to me." "I brought you back another just Hke it. And for ten yeara vu bare been payñgfor it. You can onderstand that it was not easy for ns, as wc liad nothing. At last it is done, and I am very, very glad." Mme. Forestier stopped. "You say you bouglit a set of diamomls to replace mine?" "Yes. You did not notiee it, ehP They were very like." Mme. Forestier, mach moved, took her hands in hers. "Oh! my poer Mathilde! But mine were false. It was worth at the most 500 francs."