Page:The Complete Short Stories of Guy de Maupassant.djvu/722

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WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT

garden at Salzberg. She did not seem to feel any qualms of conscience, for she had become considerably stouter, which made her more attractive, more beautiful, and consequently, more dangerous, than before.

Words of Love

“Sunday,———

You do not write to me, I never see you, you never come, so I must suppose that you have ceased to love me. But why? What have I done? Pray tell me, my own dear love. I love you so much, so dearly! I should like always to have you near me, to kiss you all day while I call you every tender name that I could think of. I adore you, I adore you, I adore you, my beautiful cock. Your affectionate hen.

“Sophie.”
“Monday,———

“My Dear Friend:

“You will understand absolutely nothing of what I am going to say to you, but that does not matter, and if my letter happens to be read by another woman, it may be profitable to her.

“Hod you been deaf and dumb, I should no doubt have loved you for a very long time, and the cause of what has happened is that you can talk; that is all.

“In love, you see, dreams are always made to sing, but in order that they may do so, they must not be interrupted, and when one talks between two kisses, one always interrupts that frenzied dream which our souls indulge in, that is, unless they utter sublime words; and sublime words do not come out of the little mouths of pretty girls.

“You do net understand me at all, do you? So much the better; I will go on. You are certainly one of the most charming and adorable women I have ever seen.

“Are there any eyes on earth that contain more dreams than yours, more unknown promises, greater depths of love? I do not think so. And when that mouth of yours, with its curved lips, smiles and shows the ivory gates within, one is tempted to say that from this ravishing mouth comes ineffable music, something inexpressibly delicate, a sweetness which extorts sighs.

“It is then that you speak to me, and that is what troubles me, don't you see, troubles me more than tongue can tell. I would prefer never to see you at all.

“You go on pretending not to understand anything, do you not? But I calculated on that.

“Do you remember the first time you came to see me at my residence? How gaily you stepped inside, an odor of violets, which clung to your skirts, heralding your entrance; how we looked at each other, for ever so long, without uttering a word, after which we embraced like two fools Then from that time to the end we never exchanged a word.

“But when we separated, did not our trembling hands and our eyes say many