by Guy de Maupassant
The five friends had finished dinner, five men of the world, mature, rich, three married, the two others bachelors. They met like this every month in memory of their youth, and after dinner they chatted until … Read the rest
The five friends had finished dinner, five men of the world, mature, rich, three married, the two others bachelors. They met like this every month in memory of their youth, and after dinner they chatted until … Read the rest
Besieged Paris was in the throes of famine. Even the sparrows on the roofs and the rats in the sewers were growing scarce. People were eating anything they could get.
As Monsieur Morissot, watchmaker by profession … Read the rest
Every Sunday, as soon as they were free, the little soldiers would go for a walk. They turned to the right on leaving the barracks, crossed Courbevoie with rapid strides, as though on a forced march; … Read the rest
About half-past five one afternoon at the end of June when the sun was shining warm and bright into the large courtyard, a very elegant victoria with two beautiful black horses drew up in front of … Read the rest
Why did I go into that beer hall on that particular evening? I do not know. It was cold; a fine rain, a flying mist, veiled the gas lamps with a transparent fog, made the side … Read the rest
Ever since he entered France with the invading army Walter Schnaffs had considered himself the most unfortunate of men. He was large, had difficulty in walking, was short of breath and suffered frightfully with his feet, … Read the rest
“That lady in black over there?”
“The very one. She’s wearing mourning for her daughter, whom she killed.”
“You don’t mean that seriously? How did she die?”
“Oh! it is a very simple story, without any … Read the rest
As we sat chatting after dinner, a party of men, the conversation turned on women, for lack of something else.
One of us said:
“Here’s a funny thing that happened to me on, that very subject.” … Read the rest
This subject of Latin that has been dinned into our ears for some time past recalls to my mind a story–a story of my youth.
I was finishing my studies with a teacher, in a big … Read the rest
I knew that tall young fellow, Rene de Bourneval. He was an agreeable man, though rather melancholy and seemed prejudiced against everything, was very skeptical, and he could with a word tear down social hypocrisy. He … Read the rest