The Hawaiian star. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu]) 1893-1912, 1911-07-29
(By Guy de Maupassant.)

been at Nlrelogne. l returned there
in the autumn, to shoot with my friend
Serval, who had at last rebuilt his
chateau, which the Prussians had de.
stroyed.
l loved that district very much. 1t
is one Of those parts of the world
which have a sensuous charm for the
eyes. You love it with bodily love.
We, whom the country seduces, keep
tender memories for certain springs,
for certain woods, for certain pools,
for certain hills, seen very often, and
which have stirred us like joyful
events. Sometimes our thoughts turn
back towards a corner in the forest,
or the end of bank, or an orchard
filled with flowers, seen but a single
time, on some gray day, yet remain
ing in our hearts like the images of
certain women met in the street on
spring morning, with bright transpar-
ent dresses, and leaving in soul and
body an unsatisfied desire which is
not to be forgotten, a feeling that you
have just encountered happiness.
At Virelogne l loved the whole coun-
try-side, dotted with little woods and
crossed by brooks which sparkled in
the sun and looked like veins, carry
ing blood to the earth. You fished in
them for crawfsh, trout and cells
divine happiness! You could battle
IN places, and you often found snipe
among the high grass which grew
along the borders of these slender
watercOurses.
l was walking, lightly as a goat,
watching my two dogs ranging before
me. Serval, hundred meters to my
right, was beating a field of lucern. |
turned the thicket which forms the
boundary of the wood of Sandres, and
| saw a cottage in ruins.
Suddenly l remembered it as | had
seen it the last time, in 1869, neat,
covered with vines, with chickens be-
fore the door. What is sadder than a
dead house, with it's skeleton stand
ing bare and sinister?
l also recalled that in it, one very
tiresome day, the good, woman had
given me a glass of wine to drink,
and that Serval had then told me the
history of its people. The father, an
nj 1t hvv h,
gendarmes. The son, whom l had once
seen, was a tall, dry fellow, who also
passed for a ferocious destroyer of
game. People called them les Sau.
wages"
Was that name or a nickname?
called to Seryal He came up with
his long strides like a crane.
| asked him: What has become OF
those people?"
This was his story:
When war was declared, the son
Savage, who was then thirty-three
years old, enlisted, leaving his mother
alone in the house. People did not
pity the old woman very much be-
cause she had money; they knew it.
She remained entirely alone in the
isolated dwelling so far from the viii
lage, on the edge of the wood. She
was not afraid, however, being of the
same strain as her menfolk; a hardy
old woman, tall and thin, who laughed
seldom, and with whom one never
TESTED. The women of the fields laugh
but little in any case; that is mems
business! But they themselves have
sad and narrowed hearts, leading a
gloomy life. The peasants
imbibe a little noisy merriment at the
tavern, but their helpmates have grave
and severe countenances always. The
learned the movements of mirth,
La Mere Savage continued her
ordinary exercise in her cottage,
which was soon covered by the SHOWS.
She came to the village once a week,
to get bread and a little meat; then
she returned to her house. AS there
was talk of wolves, she went out with
a gun upon her shoulder-her sons
gun, rusty, and with the butt worn
by the rubbing of the hand; and she
was strange to see, the tall Savage, a
little bent, going with slow strides
over the snow, the muzzle of the piece
extending beyond the black head
dress, which pressed close to her head
and imprisoned her white hair that no
one had ever seen.
One day a PrUssian force arrived, 1t
was billeted upon the inhabitants, ac-
cording to the property and resources
of each. Four were allotted to the old