thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
and dumped them into a boat, wherepassengers were bustling about among barrels of cider, baskets ofcheese and bags of meal; chickens cackled, the captain swore and acabin-boy rested on the railing, apparently indifferent to hissurroundings. Felicite, who did not recognise him, kept shouting:"Victor!" He suddenly raised his eyes, but while she was preparing torush up to him, they withdrew the gangplank.The packet, towed by singing women, glided out of the harbour. Herhull squeaked and the heavy waves beat up against her sides. The sailhad turned and nobody was visible;--and on the ocean, silvered by thelight of the moon, the vessel formed a black spot that grew dimmer anddimmer, and finally disappeared.When Felicite passed the Calvary again, she felt as if she mustentrust that which was dearest to her to the Lord; and for a longwhile she prayed, with uplifted eyes and a face wet with tears. Thecity was sleeping; some customs officials were taking the air; and thewater kept pouring through the holes of the dam with a deafening roar.The town clock struck two.The parlour of the convent would not open until morning, and surely adelay would annoy Madame, so, in spite of her desire to see the otherchild, she went home. The maids of the inn were just arising when shereached Pont-l'Eveque.So the poor boy would be on the ocean for months! His previous tripshad not alarmed her. One can come back from England and Brittany; butAmerica, the colonies, the islands, were all lost in an uncertainregion at the very end of the world.From that time on, Felicite thought solely of her nephew. On warm daysshe feared he would suffer from thirst, and when it stormed, she wasafraid he would be struck by lightning. When she harkened to the windthat rattled in the chimney and dislodged the tiles on the roof, sheimagined that he was being buffeted by the same storm, perched on topof a shattered mast, with his whole body bend backward and coveredwith sea-foam; or,--these were recollections of the engraved geography--he was being devoured by savages, or captured in a forest by apes,or dying on some lonely coast. She never mentioned her anxieties,however.Madame Aubain worried about her daughter.The sisters thought that Virginia was affectionate but delicate. Theslightest emotion enervated her. She had to give up her piano lessons.Her mother insisted upon regular letters from the convent. Onemorning, when the postman failed to come, she grew impatient and beganto pace to and fro, from her chair to the window. It was reallyextraordinary! No news since four days!In order to console her mistress by her own example, Felicite said:"Why, Madame, I haven't had any news since six months!--""From whom?--"The servant replied gently:"Why--from my nephew.""Oh, yes, your nephew!" And shrugging her shoulders, Madame Aubaincontinued to pace the floor as if to say: "I did not think of it.--Besides, I do not care, a cabin-boy, a pauper!--but my daughter--whata difference! just think of it!--"Felicite, although she had been reared roughly, was very indignant.Then she forgot about it.It appeared quite natural to her that one should lose one's head aboutVirginia.The two children were of
equal importance; they were united in herheart and their fate was to be the same.The chemist informed her that Victor's vessel had reached Havana. Hehad read the information in a newspaper.Felicite imagined that Havana was a place where people did nothing butsmoke, and that Victor walked around among negroes in a cloud oftobacco. Could a person, in case of need, return by land? How far wasit from Pont-l'Eveque? In order to learn these things, she questionedMonsieur Bourais. He reached for his map and began some explanationsconcerning longitudes, and smiled with superiority at Felicite'sbewilderment. At last, he took a pencil and pointed out animperceptible black point in the scallops of an oval blotch, adding:"There it is." She bent over the map; the maze of coloured lines hurther eyes without enlightening her; and when Bourais asked her whatpuzzled her, she requested him to show her the house Victor lived in.Bourais threw up his hands, sneezed, and then laughed uproariously;such ignorance delighted his soul; but Felicite failed to understandthe cause of his mirth, she whose intelligence was so limited that sheperhaps expected to see even the picture of her nephew!It was two weeks later that Liebard came into the kitchen at market-time, and handed her a letter from her brother-in-law. As neither ofthem could read, she called upon her mistress.Madame Aubain, who was counting the stitches of her knitting, laid herwork down beside her, opened the letter, started, and in a low toneand with a searching look said: "They tell you of a--misfortune. Yournephew--"He had died. The letter told nothing more.Felicite dropped on a chair, leaned her head against the back, andclosed her lids; presently they grew pink. Then, with drooping head,inert hands and staring eyes she repeated at intervals:"Poor little chap! poor little chap!"Liebard watched her and sighed. Madame Aubain was trembling.She proposed to the girl to go to see her sister in Trouville.With a single motion, Felicite replied that it was not necessary.There was a silence. Old Liebard thought it about time for him to takeleave.Then Felicite uttered:"They have no sympathy, they do not care!"Her head fell forward again, and from time to time, mechanically, shetoyed with the long knitting-needles on the work-table.Some women passed through the yard with a basket of wet clothes.When she saw them through the window, she suddenly remembered her ownwash; as she had soaked it the day before, she must go and rinse itnow. So she arose and left the room.Her tub and her board were on the bank of the Toucques. She threw aheap of clothes on the ground, rolled up her sleeves and grasped herbat; and her loud pounding could be heard in the neighbouring gardens.The meadows were empty, the breeze wrinkled the stream, at the bottomof which were long grasses that looked like the hair of corpsesfloating in the water. She restrained her sorrow and was very braveuntil night; but, when she had gone to her own room, she gave way toit, burying her face in the pillow and pressing her two fists againsther temples.A long while afterward, she learned through Victor's captain, thecircumstances which
surrounded his death. At the hospital they hadbled him too much, treating him for yellow fever. Four doctors heldhim at one time. He died almost instantly, and the chief surgeon hadsaid:"Here goes another one!"His parents had always treated him barbarously; she preferred not tosee them again, and they made no advances, either from forgetfulnessor out of innate hardness.Virginia was growing weaker.A cough, continual fever, oppressive breathing and spots on her cheeksindicated some serious trouble. Monsieur Popart had advised a sojournin Provence. Madame Aubain decided that they would go, and she wouldhave had her daughter come home at once, had it not been for theclimate of Pont-l'Eveque.She made an arrangement with a livery-stable man who drove her over tothe convent every Tuesday. In the garden there was a terrace, fromwhich the view extends to the Seine. Virginia walked in it, leaning onher mother's arm and treading the dead vine leaves. Sometimes the sun,shining through the clouds, made her blink her lids, when she gazed atthe sails in the distance, and let her eyes roam over the horizon fromthe chateau of Tancarville to the lighthouses of Havre. Then theyrested on the arbour. Her mother had bought a little cask of fineMalaga wine, and Virginia, laughing at the idea of becomingintoxicated, would drink a few drops of it, but never more.Her strength returned. Autumn passed. Felicite began to reassureMadame Aubain. But, one evening, when she returned home after anerrand, she met M. Boupart's coach in front of the door; M. Bouparthimself was standing in the vestibule and Madame Aubain was tying thestrings of her bonnet. "Give me my foot-warmer, my purse and mygloves; and be quick about it," she said.Virginia had congestion of the lungs; perhaps it was desperate."Not yet," said the physician, and both got into the carriage, whilethe snow fell in thick flakes. It was almost night and very cold.Felicite rushed to the church to light a candle. Then she ran afterthe coach which she overtook after an hour's chase, sprang up behindand held on to the straps. But suddenly a thought crossed her mind:"The yard had been left open; supposing that burglars got in!" Anddown she jumped.The next morning, at daybreak, she called at the doctor's. He had beenhome, but had left again. Then she waited at the inn, thinking thatstrangers might bring her a letter. At last, at daylight she took thediligence for Lisieux.The convent was at the end of a steep and narrow street. When shearrived about at the middle of it, she heard strange noises, a funeralknell. "It must be for some one else," thought she; and she pulled theknocker violently.After several minutes had elapsed, she heard footsteps, the door washalf opened and a nun appeared. The good sister, with an air ofcompunction, told her that "she had just passed away." And at the sametime the tolling of Saint-Leonard's increased.Felicite reached the second floor. Already at the threshold, shecaught sight of Virginia lying on her back, with clasped hands, hermouth open and her head thrown back, beneath a black crucifix inclinedtoward her, and stiff curtains which were less white
than her face.Madame Aubain lay at the foot of the couch, clasping it with her armsand uttering groans of agony. The Mother Superior was standing on theright side of the bed. The three candles on the bureau made red blurs,and the windows were dimmed by the fog outside. The nuns carriedMadame Aubain from the room.For two nights, Felicite never left the corpse. She would repeat thesame prayers, sprinkle holy water over the sheets, get up, come backto the bed and contemplate the body. At the end of the first vigil,she noticed that the face had taken on a yellow tinge, the lips grewblue, the nose grew pinched, the eyes were sunken. She kissed themseveral times and would not have been greatly astonished had Virginiaopened them; to souls like this the supernatural is always quitesimple. She washed her, wrapped her in a shroud, put her into thecasket, laid a wreath of flowers on her head and arranged her curls.They were blond and of an extraordinary length for her age. Felicitecut off a big lock and put half of it into her bosom, resolving neverto part with it.The body was taken to Pont-l'Eveque, according to Madame Aubain'swishes; she followed the hearse in a closed carriage.After the ceremony it took three quarters of an hour to reach thecemetery. Paul, sobbing, headed the procession; Monsieur Bouraisfollowed, and then came the principle inhabitants of the town, thewomen covered with black capes, and Felicite. The memory of hernephew, and the thought that she had not been able to render him thesehonours, made her doubly unhappy, and she felt as if he were beingburied with Virginia.Madame Aubain's grief was uncontrollable. At first she rebelledagainst God, thinking that he was unjust to have taken away her child--she who had never done anything wrong, and whose conscience was sopure! But no! she ought to have taken her South. Other doctors wouldhave saved her. She accused herself, prayed to be able to join herchild, and cried in the midst of her dreams. Of the latter, one moreespecially haunted her. Her husband, dressed like a sailor, had comeback from a long voyage, and with tears in his eyes told her that hehad received the order to take Virginia away. Then they both consultedabout a hiding-place.Once she came in from the garden, all upset. A moment before (and sheshowed the place), the father and daughter had appeared to her, oneafter the other; they did nothing but look at her.During several months she remained inert in her room. Felicite scoldedher gently; she must keep up for her son and also for the other one,for "her memory.""Her memory!" replied Madame Aubain, as if she were just awakening,"Oh! yes, yes, you do not forget her!" This was an allusion to thecemetery where she had been expressly forbidden to goBut Felicite went there every day. At four o'clock exactly, she wouldgo through the town, climb the hill, open the gate and arrive atVirginia's tomb. It was a small column of pink marble with a flatstone at its base, and it was surrounded by a little plot enclosed bychains.
The flower-beds were bright with blossoms. Felicite wateredtheir leaves, renewed the gravel, and knelt on the ground in order totill the earth properly. When Madame Aubain was able to visit thecemetery she felt very much relieved and consoled.Years passed, all alike and marked by no other events than the returnof the great church holidays: Easter, Assumption, All Saints' Day.Household happenings constituted the only data to which in later yearsthey often referred. Thus, in 1825, workmen painted the vestibule; in1827, a portion of the roof almost killed a man by falling into theyard. In the summer of 1828, it was Madame's turn to offer thehallowed bread; at that time, Bourais disappeared mysteriously; andthe old acquaintances, Guyot, Liebard, Madame Lechaptois, Robelin, oldGremanville, paralysed since a long time, passed away one by one. Onenight, the driver of the mail in Pont-l'Eveque announced theRevolution of July. A few days afterward a new sub-prefect wasnominated, the Baron de Larsonniere, ex-consul in America, who,besides his wife, had his sister-in-law and her three grown daughterswith him. They were often seen on their lawn, dressed in looseblouses, and they had a parrot and a negro servant. Madame Aubainreceived a call, which she returned promptly. As soon as she caughtsight of them, Felicite would run and notify her mistress. But onlyone thing was capable of arousing her: a letter from her son.He could not follow any profession as he was absorbed in drinking. Hismother paid his debts and he made fresh ones; and the sighs that sheheaved while she knitted at the window reached the ears of Felicitewho was spinning in the kitchen.They walked in the garden together, always speaking of Virginia, andasking each other if such and such a thing would have pleased her, andwhat she would probably have said on this or that occasion.All her little belongings were put away in a closet of the room whichheld the two little beds. But Madame Aubain looked them over as littleas possible. One summer day, however, she resigned herself to the taskand when she opened the closet the moths flew out.Virginia's frocks were hung under a shelf where there were threedolls, some hoops, a doll-house, and a basic which she had used.Felicite and Madame Aubain also took out the skirts, thehandkerchiefs, and the stockings and spread them on the beds, beforeputting them away again. The sun fell on the piteous things,disclosing their spots and the creases formed by the motions of thebody. The atmosphere was warm and blue, and a blackbird trilled in thegarden; everything seemed to live in happiness. They found a littlehat of soft brown plush, but it was entirely moth-eaten. Feliciteasked for it. Their eyes met and filled with tears; at last themistress opened her arms and the servant threw herself against herbreast and they hugged each other and giving vent to their grief in akiss which equalised them for a moment.It was the first time that this had ever happened, for Madame Aubainwas not of an expansive nature. Felicite was as grateful for it as ifit had been some favour, and thenceforth loved her with animal-likedevotion and
a religious veneration.Her kind-heartedness developed. When she heard the drums of a marchingregiment passing through the street, she would stand in the doorwaywith a jug of cider and give the soldiers a drink. She nursed choleravictims. She protected Polish refugees, and one of them even declaredthat he wished to marry her. But they quarrelled, for one morning whenshe returned from the Angelus she found him in the kitchen coollyeating a dish which he had prepared for himself during her absence.After the Polish refugees, came Colmiche, an old man who was creditedwith having committed frightful misdeeds in '93. He lived near theriver in the ruins of a pig-sty. The urchins peeped at him through thecracks in the walls and threw stones that fell on his miserable bed,where he lay gasping with catarrh, with long hair, inflamed eyelids,and a tumour as big as his head on one arm.She got him some linen, tried to clean his hovel and dreamed ofinstalling him in the bake-house without his being in Madame's way.When the cancer broke, she dressed it every day; sometimes she broughthim some cake and placed him in the sun on a bundle of hay; and thepoor old creature, trembling and drooling, would thank her in hisbroken voice, and put out his hands whenever she left him. Finally hedied; and she had a mass said for the repose of his soul.That day a great joy came to her: at dinner-time, Madame deLarsonniere's servant called with the parrot, the cage, and the perchand chain and lock. A note from the baroness told Madame Aubain thatas her husband had been promoted to a prefecture, they were leavingthat night, and she begged her to accept the bird as a remembrance anda token of her esteem.Since a long time the parrot had been on Felicite's mind, because hecame from America, which reminded her of Victor, and she hadapproached the negro on the subject.Once even, she had said:"How glad Madame would be to have him!"The man had repeated this remark to his mistress who, not being ableto keep the bird, took this means of getting rid of it.CHAPTER IVHe was called Loulou. His body was green, his head blue, the tips ofhis wings were pink and his breast was golden.But he had the tiresome tricks of biting his perch, pulling hisfeathers out, scattering refuse and spilling the water of his bath.Madame Aubain grew tired of him and gave him to Felicite for good.She undertook his education, and soon he was able to repeat: "Prettyboy! Your servant, sir! I salute you, Marie!" His perch was placednear the door and several persons were astonished that he did notanswer to the name of "Jacquot," for every parrot is called Jacquot.They called him a goose and a log, and these taunts were like so manydagger thrusts to Felicite. Strange stubbornness of the bird whichwould not talk when people watched him!Nevertheless, he sought society; for on Sunday, when the ladiesRochefeuille, Monsieur de Houppeville and the new habitues, Onfroy,the chemist, Monsieur Varin and Captain Mathieu, dropped in for theirgame of cards, he struck the window-panes with
his wings and made sucha racket that it was impossible to talk.Bourais' face must have appeared very funny to Loulou. As soon as hesaw him he would begin to roar. His voice re-echoed in the yard, andthe neighbours would come to the windows and begin to laugh, too; andin order that the parrot might not see him, Monsieur Bourais edgedalong the wall, pushed his hat over his eyes to hide his profile, andentered by the garden door, and the looks he gave the bird lackedaffection. Loulou, having thrust his head into the butcher-boy'sbasket, received a slap, and from that time he always tried to nip hisenemy. Fabu threatened to ring his neck, although he was not cruellyinclined, notwithstanding his big whiskers and tattooings. On thecontrary, he rather liked the bird, and, out of devilry, tried toteach him oaths. Felicite, whom his manner alarmed, put Loulou in thekitchen, took off his chain and let him walk all over the house.When he went downstairs, he rested his beak on the steps, lifted hisright foot and then his left one; but his mistress feared that suchfeats would give him vertigo. He became ill and was unable to eat.There was a small growth under his tongue like those chickens aresometimes afflicted with. Felicite pulled it off with her nails andcured him. One day, Paul was imprudent enough to blow the smoke of hiscigar in his face; another time, Madame Lormeau was teasing him withthe tip of her umbrella and he swallowed the tip. Finally he got lost.She had put him on the grass to cool him and went away only for asecond; when she returned, she found no parrot! She hunted among thebushes, on the bank of the river, and on the roofs, without paying anyattention to Madame Aubain who screamed at her: "Take care! you mustbe insane!" Then she searched every garden in Pont-l'Eveque andstopped the passers-by to inquire of them: "Haven't you perhaps seenmy parrot?" To those who had never seen the parrot, she described himminutely. Suddenly she thought she saw something green flutteringbehind the mills at the foot of the hill. But when she was at the topof the hill she could not see it. A hod-carrier told her that he hadjust seen the bird in Saint-Melaine, in Mother Simon's store. Sherushed to the place. The people did not know what she was talkingabout. At last she came home, exhausted, with her slippers worn toshreds, and despair in her heart. She sat down on the bench nearMadame and was telling of her search when presently a light weightdropped on her shoulder--Loulou! What the deuce had he been doing?Perhaps he had just taken a little walk around the town!She did not easily forget her scare; in fact, she never got over it.In consequence of a cold, she caught a sore throat; and some timelater she had an earache. Three years later she was stone deaf, andspoke in a very loud voice even in church. Although her sins mighthave been proclaimed throughout the diocese without any shame toherself, or ill effects to the community, the