thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
income of which barelyamounted to 5,000 francs; then she left her house in Saint-Melaine,and moved into a less pretentious one which had belonged to herancestors and stood back of the market-place. This house, with itsslate-covered roof, was built between a passage-way and a narrowstreet that led to the river. The interior was so unevenly graded thatit caused people to stumble. A narrow hall separated the kitchen fromthe parlour, where Madame Aubain sat all day in a straw armchair nearthe window. Eight mahogany chairs stood in a row against the whitewainscoting. An old piano, standing beneath a barometer, was coveredwith a pyramid of old books and boxes. On either side of the yellowmarble mantelpiece, in Louis XV. style, stood a tapestry armchair. Theclock represented a temple of Vesta; and the whole room smelled musty,as it was on a lower level than the garden.On the first floor was Madame's bed-chamber, a large room papered in aflowered design and containing the portrait of Monsieur dressed in thecostume of a dandy. It communicated with a smaller room, in whichthere were two little cribs, without any mattresses. Next, came theparlour (always closed), filled with furniture covered with sheets.Then a hall, which led to the study, where books and papers were piledon the shelves of a book-case that enclosed three quarters of the bigblack desk. Two panels were entirely hidden under pen-and-inksketches, Gouache landscapes and Audran engravings, relics of bettertimes and vanished luxury. On the second floor, a garret-windowlighted Felicite's room, which looked out upon the meadows.She arose at daybreak, in order to attend mass, and she worked withoutinterruption until night; then, when dinner was over, the dishescleared away and the door securely locked, she would bury the logunder the ashes and fall asleep in front of the hearth with a rosaryin her hand. Nobody could bargain with greater obstinacy, and as forcleanliness, the lustre on her brass sauce-pans was the envy anddespair of other servants. She was most economical, and when she ateshe would gather up crumbs with the tip of her finger, so that nothingshould be wasted of the loaf of bread weighing twelve pounds which wasbaked especially for her and lasted three weeks.Summer and winter she wore a dimity kerchief fastened in the back witha pin, a cap which concealed her hair, a red skirt, grey stockings,and an apron with a bib like those worn by hospital nurses.Her face was thin and her voice shrill. When she was twenty-five, shelooked forty. After she had passed fifty, nobody could tell her age;erect and silent always, she resembled a wooden figure workingautomatically.CHAPTER IILike every other woman, she had had an affair of the heart. Herfather, who was a mason, was killed by falling from a scaffolding.Then her mother died and her sisters went their different ways; afarmer took her in, and while she was quite small, let her keep cowsin the fields. She was clad in miserable rags, beaten for theslightest offence and finally dismissed for a theft of thirty souswhich she did not commit. She took service on another farm where shetended the poultry; and as
she was well thought of by her master, herfellow-workers soon grew jealous.One evening in August (she was then eighteen years old), theypersuaded her to accompany them to the fair at Colleville. She wasimmediately dazzled by the noise, the lights in the trees, thebrightness of the dresses, the laces and gold crosses, and the crowdof people all hopping at the same time. She was standing modestly at adistance, when presently a young man of well-to-do appearance, who hadbeen leaning on the pole of a wagon and smoking his pipe, approachedher, and asked her for a dance. He treated her to cider and cake,bought her a silk shawl, and then, thinking she had guessed hispurpose, offered to see her home. When they came to the end of a fieldhe threw her down brutally. But she grew frightened and screamed, andhe walked off.One evening, on the road leading to Beaumont, she came upon a wagonloaded with hay, and when she overtook it, she recognised Theodore. Hegreeted her calmly, and asked her to forget what had happened betweenthem, as it "was all the fault of the drink."She did not know what to reply and wished to run away.Presently he began to speak of the harvest and of the notables of thevillage; his father had left Colleville and bought the farm of LesEcots, so that now they would be neighbours. "Ah!" she exclaimed. Hethen added that his parents were looking around for a wife for him,but that he, himself, was not so anxious and preferred to wait for agirl who suited him. She hung her head. He then asked her whether shehad ever thought of marrying. She replied, smilingly, that it waswrong of him to make fun of her. "Oh! no, I am in earnest," he said,and put his left arm around her waist while they sauntered along. Theair was soft, the stars were bright, and the huge load of hayoscillated in front of them, drawn by four horses whose ponderoushoofs raised clouds of dust. Without a word from their driver theyturned to the right. He kissed her again and she went home. Thefollowing week, Theodore obtained meetings.They met in yards, behind walls or under isolated trees. She was notignorant, as girls of well-to-do families are--for the animals hadinstructed her;--but her reason and her instinct of honour kept herfrom falling. Her resistance exasperated Theodore's love and so inorder to satisfy it (or perchance ingenuously), he offered to marryher. She would not believe him at first, so he made solemn promises.But, in a short time he mentioned a difficulty; the previous year, hisparents had purchased a substitute for him; but any day he might bedrafted and the prospect of serving in the army alarmed him greatly.To Felicite his cowardice appeared a proof of his love for her, andher devotion to him grew stronger. When she met him, he would tortureher with his fears and his entreaties. At last, he announced that hewas going to the prefect himself for information, and would let herknow everything on the following Sunday, between eleven o'clock andmidnight.When the time grew near, she ran
to meet her lover.But instead of Theodore, one of his friends was at the meeting-place.He informed her that she would never see her sweetheart again; for, inorder to escape the conscription, he had married a rich old woman,Madame Lehoussais, of Toucques.The poor girl's sorrow was frightful. She threw herself on the ground,she cried and called on the Lord, and wandered around desolately untilsunrise. Then she went back to the farm, declared her intention ofleaving, and at the end of the month, after she had received herwages, she packed all her belongings in a handkerchief and started forPont-l'Eveque.In front of the inn, she met a woman wearing widow's weeds, and uponquestioning her, learned that she was looking for a cook. The girl didnot know very much, but appeared so willing and so modest in herrequirements, that Madame Aubain finally said:"Very well, I will give you a trial."And half an hour later Felicite was installed in her house.At first she lived in a constant anxiety that was caused by "the styleof the household" and the memory of "Monsieur," that hovered overeverything. Paul and Virginia, the one aged seven, and the otherbarely four, seemed made of some precious material; she carried thempig-a-back, and was greatly mortified when Madame Aubain forbade herto kiss them every other minute.But in spite of all this, she was happy. The comfort of her newsurroundings had obliterated her sadness.Every Thursday, friends of Madame Aubain dropped in for a game ofcards, and it was Felicite's duty to prepare the table and heat thefoot-warmers. They arrived at exactly eight o'clock and departedbefore eleven.Every Monday morning, the dealer in second-hand goods, who lived underthe alley-way, spread out his wares on the sidewalk. Then the citywould be filled with a buzzing of voices in which the neighing ofhorses, the bleating of lambs, the grunting of pigs, could bedistinguished, mingled with the sharp sound of wheels on the cobble-stones. About twelve o'clock, when the market was in full swing, thereappeared at the front door a tall, middle-aged peasant, with a hookednose and a cap on the back of his head; it was Robelin, the farmer ofGeffosses. Shortly afterwards came Liebard, the farmer of Toucques,short, rotund and ruddy, wearing a grey jacket and spurred boots.Both men brought their landlady either chickens or cheese. Felicitewould invariably thwart their ruses and they held her in greatrespect.At various times, Madame Aubain received a visit from the Marquis deGremanville, one of her uncles, who was ruined and lived at Falaise onthe remainder of his estates. He always came at dinner-time andbrought an ugly poodle with him, whose paws soiled their furniture. Inspite of his efforts to appear a man of breeding (he even went so faras to raise his hat every time he said "My deceased father"), hishabits got the better of him, and he would fill his glass a little toooften and relate broad stories. Felicite would show him out verypolitely and say: "You have had enough for this time, Monsieur deGremanville! Hoping to see you again!" and would close the door.She opened it gladly for Monsieur Bourais, a retired
lawyer. His baldhead and white cravat, the ruffling of his shirt, his flowing browncoat, the manner in which he took snuff, his whole person, in fact,produced in her the kind of awe which we feel when we seeextraordinary persons. As he managed Madame's estates, he spent hourswith her in Monsieur's study; he was in constant fear of beingcompromised, had a great regard for the magistracy and somepretensions to learning.In order to facilitate the children's studies, he presented them withan engraved geography which represented various scenes of the world;cannibals with feather head-dresses, a gorilla kidnapping a younggirl, Arabs in the desert, a whale being harpooned, etc.Paul explained the pictures to Felicite. And, in fact, this was heronly literary education.The children's studies were under the direction of a poor devilemployed at the town-hall, who sharpened his pocket-knife on his bootsand was famous for his penmanship.When the weather was fine, they went to Geffosses. The house was builtin the centre of the sloping yard; and the sea looked like a grey spotin the distance. Felicite would take slices of cold meat from thelunch basket and they would sit down and eat in a room next to thedairy. This room was all that remained of a cottage that had been torndown. The dilapidated wall-paper trembled in the drafts. MadameAubain, overwhelmed by recollections, would hang her head, while thechildren were afraid to open their mouths. Then, "Why don't you go andplay?" their mother would say; and they would scamper off.Paul would go to the old barn, catch birds, throw stones into thepond, or pound the trunks of the trees with a stick till theyresounded like drums. Virginia would feed the rabbits and run to pickthe wild flowers in the fields, and her flying legs would disclose herlittle embroidered pantalettes. One autumn evening, they struck outfor home through the meadows. The new moon illumined part of the skyand a mist hovered like a veil over the sinuosities of the river.Oxen, lying in the pastures, gazed mildly at the passing persons. Inthe third field, however, several of them got up and surrounded them."Don't be afraid," cried Felicite; and murmuring a sort of lament shepassed her hand over the back of the nearest ox; he turned away andthe others followed. But when they came to the next pasture, theyheard frightful bellowing.It was a bull which was hidden from them by the fog. He advancedtowards the two women, and Madame Aubain prepared to flee for herlife. "No, no! not so fast," warned Felicite. Still they hurried on,for they could hear the noisy breathing of the bull behind them. Hishoofs pounded the grass like hammers, and presently he began togallop! Felicite turned around and threw patches of grass in his eyes.He hung his head, shook his horns and bellowed with fury. MadameAubain and the children, huddled at the end of the field, were tryingto jump over the ditch. Felicite continued to back before the bull,blinding him with dirt, while she shouted to them to make haste.Madame Aubain finally slid into the ditch, after shoving firstVirginia and then Paul into it, and though
all were laden withquantities of apples. The thatched roofs, which were of unequalthickness, looked like brown velvet and could resist the fiercestgales. But the wagon-shed was fast crumbling to ruins. Madame Aubainsaid that she would attend to it, and then gave orders to have thehorses saddled.It took another thirty minutes to reach Trouville. The little caravandismounted in order to pass Les Ecores, a cliff that overhangs thebay, and a few minutes later, at the end of the dock, they entered theyard of the Golden Lamb, an inn kept by Mother David.During the first few days, Virginia felt stronger, owing to the changeof air and the action of the sea-baths. She took them in her littlechemise, as she had no bathing suit, and afterwards her nurse dressedher in the cabin of a customs officer, which was used for that purposeby other bathers.In the afternoon, they would take the donkey and go to the Roches-Noires, near Hennequeville. The path led at first through undulatinggrounds, and thence to a plateau, where pastures and tilled fieldsalternated. At the edge of the road, mingling with the brambles, grewholly bushes, and here and there stood large dead trees whose branchestraced zigzags upon the blue sky.Ordinarily, they rested in a field facing the ocean, with Deauville ontheir left, and Havre on their right. The sea glittered brightly inthe sun and was as smooth as a mirror, and so calm that they couldscarcely distinguish its murmur; sparrows chirped joyfully and theimmense canopy of heaven spread over it all. Madame Aubain brought outher sewing, and Virginia amused herself by braiding reeds; Felicitewove lavender blossoms, while Paul was bored and wished to go home.Sometimes they crossed the Toucques in a boat, and started to hunt forsea-shells. The outgoing tide exposed star-fish and sea-urchins, andthe children tried to catch the flakes of foam which the wind blewaway. The sleepy waves lapping the sand unfurled themselves along theshore that extended as far as the eye could see, but where land began,it was limited by the downs which separated it from the "Swamp," alarge meadow shaped like a hippodrome. When they went home that way,Trouville, on the slope of a hill below, grew larger and larger asthey advanced, and, with all its houses of unequal height, seemed tospread out before them in a sort of giddy confusion.When the heat was too oppressive, they remained in their rooms. Thedazzling sunlight cast bars of light between the shutters. Not a soundin the village, not a soul on the sidewalk. This silence intensifiedthe tranquility of everything. In the distance, the hammers of somecalkers pounded the hull of a ship, and the sultry breeze brought theman odour of tar.The principal diversion consisted in watching the return of thefishing-smacks. As soon as they passed the beacons, they began to plyto windward. The sails were lowered to one third of the masts, andwith their fore-sails swelled up like balloons they glided over thewaves and anchored in the middle of the harbour. Then they crept upalongside of the dock and the sailors threw the quivering fish overthe side of the boat; a
line of carts was waiting for them, and womenwith white caps sprang forward to receive the baskets and embracetheir men-folk.One day, one of them spoke to Felicite, who, after a little while,returned to the house gleefully. She had found one of her sisters, andpresently Nastasie Barette, wife of Leroux, made her appearance,holding an infant in her arms, another child by the hand, while on herleft was a little cabin-boy with his hands in his pockets and his capon his ear.At the end of fifteen minutes, Madame Aubain bade her go.They always hung around the kitchen, or approached Felicite when sheand the children were out walking. The husband, however, did not showhimself.Felicite developed a great fondness for them; she bought them a stove,some shirts and a blanket; it was evident that they exploited her. Herfoolishness annoyed Madame Aubain, who, moreover did not like thenephew's familiarity, for he called her son "thou";--and, as Virginiabegan to cough and the season was over, she decided to return to Pont-l'Eveque.Monsieur Bourais assisted her in the choice of a college. The one atCaen was considered the best. So Paul was sent away and bravely saidgood-bye to them all, for he was glad to go to live in a house wherehe would have boy companions.Madame Aubain resigned herself to the separation from her son becauseit was unavoidable. Virginia brooded less and less over it. Feliciteregretted the noise he made, but soon a new occupation diverted hermind; beginning from Christmas, she accompanied the little girl to hercatechism lesson every day.CHAPTER IIIAfter she had made a curtsey at the threshold, she would walk up theaisle between the double lines of chairs, open Madame Aubain's pew,sit down and look around.Girls and boys, the former on the right, the latter on the left-handside of the church, filled the stalls of the choir; the priest stoodbeside the reading-desk; on one stained window of the side-aisle theHoly Ghost hovered over the Virgin; on another one, Mary knelt beforethe Child Jesus, and behind the alter, a wooden group representedSaint Michael felling the dragon.The priest first read a condensed lesson of sacred history. Feliciteevoked Paradise, the Flood, the Tower of Babel, the blazing cities,the dying nations, the shattered idols; and out of this she developeda great respect for the Almighty and a great fear of His wrath. Then,when she had listened to the Passion, she wept. Why had they crucifiedHim who loved little children, nourished the people, made the blindsee, and who, out of humility, had wished to be born among the poor,in a stable? The sowings, the harvests, the wine-presses, all thosefamiliar things which the Scriptures mention, formed a part of herlife; the word of God sanctified them; and she loved the lambs withincreased tenderness for the sake of the Lamb, and the doves becauseof the Holy Ghost.She found it hard, however, to think of the latter as a person, forwas it not a bird, a flame, and sometimes only a breath? Perhaps it isits light that at night hovers over swamps, its breath that propelsthe clouds, its voice that renders church-bells harmonious. AndFelicite worshipped devoutly,
thisway managed to fill out the emptiness of the hours.Each morning, out of habit, Felicite entered Virginia's room and gazedat the walls. She missed combing her hair, lacing her shoes, tuckingher in her bed, and the bright face and little hand when they used togo out for a walk. In order to occupy herself she tried to make lace.But her clumsy fingers broke the threads; she had no heart foranything, lost her sleep and "wasted away," as she put it.In order to have some distraction, she asked leave to receive thevisits of her nephew Victor.He would come on Sunday, after church, with ruddy cheeks and baredchest, bringing with him the scent of the country. She would set thetable and they would sit down opposite each other, and eat theirdinner; she ate as little as possible, herself, to avoid any extraexpense, but would stuff him so with food that he would finally go tosleep. At the first stroke of vespers, she would wake him up, brushhis trousers, tie his cravat and walk to church with him, leaning onhis arm with maternal pride.His parents always told him to get something out of her, either apackage of brown sugar, or soap, or brandy, and sometimes even money.He brought her his clothes to mend, and she accepted the task gladly,because it meant another visit from him.In August, his father took him on a coasting-vessel.It was vacation time and the arrival of the children consoledFelicite. But Paul was capricious, and Virginia was growing too old tobe thee-and-thou'd, a fact which seemed to produce a sort ofembarrassment in their relations.Victor went successively to Morlaix, to Dunkirk, and to Brighton;whenever he returned from a trip he would bring her a present. Thefirst time it was a box of shells; the second, a coffee-cup; thethird, a big doll of ginger-bread. He was growing handsome, had a goodfigure, a tiny moustache, kind eyes, and a little leather cap that satjauntily on the back of his head. He amused his aunt by telling herstories mingled with nautical expressions.One Monday, the 14th of July, 1819 (she never forgot the date), Victorannounced that he had been engaged on a merchant-vessel and that intwo days he would take the steamer at Honfleur and join his sailer,which was going to start from Havre very soon. Perhaps he might beaway two years.The prospect of his departure filled Felicite with despair, and inorder to bid him farewell, on Wednesday night, after Madame's dinner,she put on her pattens and trudged the four miles that separated Pont-l'Eveque from Honfleur.When she reached the Calvary, instead of turning to the right, sheturned to the left and lost herself in coal-yards; she had to retraceher steps; some people she spoke to advised her to hasten. She walkedhelplessly around the harbour filled with vessels, and knocked againsthawsers. Presently the ground sloped abruptly, lights flitted to andfro, and she thought all at once that she had gone mad when she sawsome horses in the sky.Others, on the edge of the dock, neighed at the sight of the ocean. Aderrick pulled them up in the air,