Pierre and Jean Guy de Maupassant (best motivational books of all time TXT) 📖

its long whiskers, gently retired in front of the net. Jean drove it towards the seaweed, making sure of his prey. When it found itself blockaded it rose with a dart over the net, shot across the mere, and was gone. The young woman, who was watching the chase in great excitement, could not help exclaiming: “Oh! Clumsy!”

He was vexed, and without a moment’s thought dragged his net over a hole full of weed. As he brought it to the surface again he saw in it three large transparent prawns, caught blindfold in their hiding-place.

He offered them in triumph to Mme. Rosémilly, who was afraid to touch them, for fear of the sharp, serrated crest which arms their heads. However, she made up her mind to it, and taking them up by the tip of their long whiskers she dropped them one by one into her creel, with a little seaweed to keep them alive. Then, having found a shallower pool of water, she stepped in with some hesitation, for the cold plunge of her feet took her breath away, and began to fish on her own account. She was dextrous and artful, with the light hand and the hunter’s instinct which are indispensable. At almost every dip she brought up some prawns, beguiled and surprised by her ingeniously gentle pursuit.

Jean now caught nothing; but he followed her, step by step, touched her now and again, bent over her, pretended great distress at his own awkwardness, and besought her to teach him.

“Show me,” he kept saying. “Show me how.”

And then, as their two faces were reflected side by side in water so clear that the black weeds at the bottom made a mirror, Jean smiled at the face which looked up at him from the depth, and now and then from his fingertips blew it a kiss which seemed to light upon it.

“Oh! how tiresome you are!” she exclaimed. “My dear fellow, you should never do two things at once.”

He replied: “I am only doing one⁠—loving you.”

She drew herself up and said gravely:

“What has come over you these ten minutes; have you lost your wits?”

“No, I have not lost my wits. I love you, and at last I dare to tell you so.”

They were at this moment both standing in the salt pool wet halfway up to their knees and with dripping hands, holding their nets. They looked into each other’s eyes.

She went on in a tone of amused annoyance.

“How very ill-advised to tell me here and now! Could you not wait till another day instead of spoiling my fishing?”

“Forgive me,” he murmured, “but I could not longer hold my peace. I have loved you a long time. Today you have intoxicated me and I lost my reason.”

Then suddenly she seemed to have resigned herself to talk business and think no more of pleasure.

“Let us sit down on that stone,” said she, “we can talk more comfortably.” They scrambled up a rather high boulder, and when they had settled themselves side by side in the bright sunshine, she began again:

“My good friend, you are no longer a child, and I am not a young girl. We both know perfectly well what we are about and we can weigh the consequences of our actions. If you have made up your mind to make love to me today I must naturally infer that you wish to marry me.”

He was not prepared for this matter-of-fact statement of the case, and he answered blandly:

“Why, yes.”

“Have you mentioned it to your father and mother?”

“No, I wanted to know first whether you would accept me.”

She held out her hand, which was still wet, and as he eagerly clasped it:

“I am ready and willing,” she said. “I believe you to be kind and truehearted. But remember, I should not like to displease your parents.”

“Oh, do you think that my mother has never foreseen it, or that she would not be as fond of you as she is if she did not hope that you and I should marry?”

“That is true. I am a little disturbed.”

They said no more. He, for his part, was amazed at her being so little disturbed, so rational. He had expected pretty little flirting ways, refusals which meant yes, a whole coquettish comedy of love chequered by prawn-fishing in the splashing water. And it was all over; he was pledged, married with twenty words. They had no more to say about it since they were agreed, and they now sat, both somewhat embarrassed by what had so swiftly passed between them; a little perplexed, indeed, not daring to speak, not daring to fish, not knowing what to do.

Roland’s voice rescued them.

“This way, this way, children. Come and watch Beausire. The fellow is positively clearing out the sea!”

The captain had, in fact, had a wonderful haul. Wet above his hips he waded from pool to pool, recognizing the likeliest spots at a glance, and searching all the hollows hidden under seaweed, with a steady slow sweep of his net. And the beautiful transparent, sandy-gray prawns skipped in his palm as he picked them out of the net with a dry jerk and put them into his creel. Mme. Rosémilly, surprised and delighted, remained at his side, almost forgetful of her promise to Jean, who followed them in a dream, giving herself up entirely to the childish enjoyment of pulling the creatures out from among the waving sea-grasses.

Roland suddenly exclaimed:

“Ah, here comes Mme. Roland to join us.”

She had remained at first on the beach with Pierre, for they had neither of them any wish to play at running about among the rocks and paddling in the tide-pools; and yet they had felt doubtful about staying together. She was afraid of him, and her son was afraid of her and of himself; afraid of his own cruelty which he could not control. But they sat down side by side on the stones. And both of them, under the heat of the sun, mitigated by the sea-breeze, gazing at the