BOULE DE SUIF
It was half past four in the morning．The travellers， who had met in the yard of the Normandy Hotel，were shivering with cold in the darkness．
“Isn't the coach ready yet？”one of them said．
“No，not yet，”his companion answered．
“Lucky we have been to get a permit from the Prussian army to leave Rouen，”another said．
“I have an acquaintance among German officers．”
“I see．”
“Do you think we can run a business at Havre？”
“Perhaps we can．If not，we can make our way to England．Nothing venture，nothing gain．”
“I agree with you．We can do nothing in occupied Rouen．”
“I have brought my wife．”
“So have I．”
“And I，too．”
Horses’ hoofs were heard，and the tinkling of little bells told them that the harness was being got ready．Snow was falling with something like a vague and indefinable whisper．
A man with a lantern appeared，dragging along a horse．He spent a long time adjusting the harness with one hand， for he held the lantern in the other．As he was going to fetch the second horse，he noticed the travellers standing helplessly under the falling snow．
“Don't you stand there，”he said．“Get inside the coach， and you can at least take shelter from the snow．”
Why had it not occurred to them？They rushed for the coach．The three husbands took their seats at the far end with their wives；the other veiled and vague forms took the remaining places．
At last the coach was ready．It was drawn by a team of six horses instead of the usual four，because of the bad state of the roads．The roads were very bad indeed．The horses slipped and panted，and the driver had to use his whip incessantly．
Gradually the day dawned．A bluish，leaden light came over the dreary， white landscape．Inside the carriage the passengers now looked at one another inquisitively．
Monsieur and Madame Loiseau were wholesale wine merchants of the Rue Grand-pont．He had started life as a clerk in an office，and when his employer failed in business，he bought it and made a fortune by selling very bad wine at low prices to small retailers in the country．Master of every trick of making money， he was notorious for his sharp practice．
Next to them sat， with the dignity of a higher class，Monsieur Carre－Lamadon，owner of three spinning－mills，officer of the Legion of Honour and member of the Conseil Général．Under the Empire he posed as leader of the moderate opposition，which he hoped would be useful to him should he wish to desert to the opposite side．
Madame Carré－Lamadon was much younger20 than her husband．A lady of delicate beauty，she had always attracted the attention of officers of good family， stationed at Rouen．Muffled in furs，she now stared sulkily at the interior of the coach．
Their neighbours were the Count and Countess Hubert de Bréville， who belonged to one of the oldest and most aristocratic families in Normandy．The Count bore a natural likeness to King Henry Ⅳ， which he tried to accentuate by elaborate make－up．
It had long been whispered among his family，not without pride， that the king had once made love to a Madame de Bréville， and in return for her attentions， had made her husband a count and governor of a province．God only knows why he was married to the daughter of an unimportant shipowner of Nantes．
She was stately to look at， very hospitable，and the rumour that she had been a favourite with one of the sons of Louis Philippe made her the more popular among the local nobles．Her salon was considered the best in the neighbourhood．Admittance to it was not easy to get，and her drawing room was the only place where the gracious politeness of bygone days remained alive．The Brévilles had landed estates，which were said to yield an income of half a million francs．
These six were the most important of the party； they were all wealthy， respectable and solid members of society．
It so happened that all the women were seated on the same side．Next to the Countess sat two nuns．One of them was an old woman with a skin5 deeply pitted with smallpox； her companion was as mall，sickly， even consumptive-looking person，but seemingly filled with religious devotion．
Opposite the two nuns sat a man and a woman．The man was Cornudet； he was wellknown for his dissolute habits and crazy political ideas．Hehad inherited a respectable fortune from his father， but had wasted it away upon drink and useless ambitions．Now he took it into his head that he would be better employed at Havre，where his help would be needed．
The woman beside him was what is called a woman of a certain type．What was most noticeable about her was her excessive portliness．Short， round and plump as a dumpling， she was nicknamed Boule de Suif， that is，suet dumpling．
She had，nevertheless， rosy cheeks suggesting peony buds ready to burst into flowers， black eyes shaded and deepened by long lashes， and a25 charming， pouting mouth revealing now and then white rows of tiny teeth．
As soon as the ladies recognized her， they began to whisper among themselves．By and by the words “prostitute”and “shameful”and similar5 words became audible and attracted the attention of the poor woman．
She raised her head and looked at them so defiantly that they became silent，with their eyes cast down； Loiseau， sensitive to feminine charms， cast stealthy glances of curiosity at her．
However， the three ladles， soon encouraged by their dislike of this common enemy to housewives， resumed their conversation．The three husbands，on the other hand， discussed money matters proudly， and made contemptuous remarks about poorer folk．
Count Hubert talked about the loss of cattle and crops caused by the Prussians， but with an expression which showed that he did not care about it at all．
Monsieur Carré-Lamadon said he had been shrewd enough to send to England six hundred thousand francs for safe keeping．Loiseau spoke of the huge amount of money the State would pay him at Havre for the wines he had sold to the French Commissariat．
The three man exchanged meaningful glances．Though of different social standing，they all worshipped money．
The coach moved on at a snail-like pace，and by ten o'clock they had covered not more than ten miles．They had intended to have lunch at T word/media/image1.giftes， but it seemed impossible now to arrive there before nightfall．
They looked for a wayside inn，but there was no sign of even the meanest tavern or wine shop．They were growing hungry and rather depressed， for they had not brought any food with them．The men tried to get food from peasants they came across by the roadside，but they could not obtain even plain bread．
Towards one o'clock they felt more and more hungry，and stopped gossiping，pinched with hunger．
“I feel ill，”the Count said．“Why didn't I think of bringing some provisions？
Boule de Suif stooped down now and then，as if to take out something from under her petticoats， but each time she hesitated and sat up again．About three o'clock，when the coach was going across a desolate plain，she bent down again，and this time drew from under the seat a large basket covered with a napkin．
First she took out of it a little earthen plate， next a dainty silver cup，and then a large dish loaded with two cut fowls flavoured with jelly．And from the basket peeped other good things-pies，fruit，dainties，even bottles，seemingly sufficient for a three days journey．
The agreeable smell of food filled the air，and riveted the attention of the hungry passengers．
The ladies contempt for the hussy rose to a fury．She was making a display of food when they were starving！How they wished they could kill her！
Loiseau was the first to rise to the occasion．
“Thank God！”he said．Madame，you've been very thoughtful．”
Boule de suif turned towards him．
“Would you care for some，sir？”she said．“It is hard to go without food all day．”
He bowed．
“well，”he replied，trying to be facetious．
“Any port in a storm．We must make the best of things．”
He spread a newspaper on his lap，and using a knife which he always carried in his pocket， speared a leg of chicken thickly coated with jelly and began to eat it greedily．
Then in a low，gentle voice Boule de Suif asked the two nuns if they would share her meal．The two devotees readily accepted the offer．Cornudet also accepted her invitation．With newspapers spread on their knees they made a sort of table and feverishly started stuffing their stomachs．
Loiseau quietly urged his wife to follow their example．At first she refused，but her hunger was too strong to resist for a long time．Her husband asked Boule de Suif if he might offer his wife a small portion．
“Why，certainly，sir，”she replied，a happy smile spreading across her face，and she handed him the dish．
Then the bottle of Bordeaux wine was opened， and though they had only one cup，they passed it round，each wiping it in turn．Cornudet alone gallantly put his lips to the brim of the cup still wet from the lips of his fair companion．
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