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He stammered： 〃That's it！ that's it！ it's the fault of my dispositton。〃
〃How so； of your disposition？〃
〃Yes； when I become attached to a person I become attached to him； that's
all。〃
She began to laugh： 〃You are not going to try to tell me that
Maramballe's sweet disposition caused you to become attached to him for
life。〃
He was fidgeting about on his bench visibly embarrassed； and he muttered
behind his long beard：
〃It was not he； it was you！〃
The old lady； who had a sweet face； with a snowy line of curly white hair
between her forehead and her bonnet； turned around in her chair and
observed her servant with a surprised look； exclaiming： 〃I； my poor
Alexandre！ How so？〃
He began to look up in the air； then to one side； then toward the
distance； turning his head as do timid people when forced to admit
shameful secrets。 At last he exclaimed； with the courage of a trooper
who is ordered to the line of fire： 〃You see； it's this waythe first
time I brought a letter to mademoiselle from the lieutenant； mademoiselle
gave me a franc and a smile； and that settled it。〃
Not understanding well； she questioned him 〃Explain yourself。〃
Then he cried out； like a malefactor who is admitting a fatal crime：
〃I had a sentiment for madame！ There！〃
She answered nothing； stopped looking at him； hung her head； and thought。
She was good； full of justice； gentleness； reason； and tenderness。 In a
second she saw the immense devotion of this poor creature； who had given
up everything in order to live beside her； without saying anything。 And
she felt as if she could cry。 Then； with a sad but not angry expression；
she said： 〃Let us return home。〃
He rose and began to push the wheeled chair。
As they approached the village they saw Captain Maramballe coming toward
them。 As soon as he joined them he asked his wife； with a visible desire
of getting angry： 〃What have we for dinner？〃
〃Some chicken with flageolets。〃
He lost his temper： 〃Chicken！ chicken！ always chicken！ By all that's
holy； I've had enough chicken！ Have you no ideas in your head； that you
make me eat chicken every day？〃
She answered； in a resigned tone： 〃But； my dear； you know that the doctor
has ordered it for you。 It's the best thing for your stomach。 If your
stomach were well； I could give you many things which I do not dare set
before you now。〃
Then； exasperated； he planted himself in front of Alexandre； exclaiming：
〃Well； if my stomach is out of order it's the fault of that brute。 For
thirty…five years he has been poisoning me with his abominable cooking。〃
Madame Maramballe suddenly turned about completely； in order to see the
old domestic。 Their eyes met； and in this single glance they both said
〃Thank you！〃 to each other。
THE LOG
The drawing…room was small； full of heavy draperies and discreetly
fragrant。 A large fire burned in the grate and a solitary lamp at one
end of the mantelpiece threw a soft light on the two persons who were
talking。
She； the mistress of the house； was an old lady with white hair； but one
of those old ladies whose unwrinkled skin is as smooth as the finest
paper； and scented； impregnated with perfume； with the delicate essences
which she had used in her bath for so many years。
He was a very old friend； who had never married； a constant friend； a
companion in the journey of life； but nothing more。
They had not spoken for about a minute； and were both looking at the
fire； dreaming of no matter what； in one of those moments of friendly
silence between people who have no need to be constantly talking in order
to be happy together； when suddenly a large log； a stump covered with
burning roots； fell out。 It fell over the firedogs into the drawing…room
and rolled on to the carpet； scattering great sparks around it。 The old
lady； with a little scream； sprang to her feet to run away； while he
kicked the log back on to the hearth and stamped out all the burning
sparks with his boots。
When the disaster was remedied； there was a strong smell of burning； and；
sitting down opposite to his friend； the man looked at her with a smile
and said； as he pointed to the log：
〃That is the reason why I never married。〃
She looked at him in astonishment； with the inquisitive gaze of women who
wish to know everything； that eye which women have who are no longer very
young；in which a complex； and often roguish； curiosity is reflected；
and she asked：
〃How so？〃
〃Oh； it is a long story；〃 he replied； 〃a rather sad and unpleasant story。
〃My old friends were often surprised at the coldness which suddenly
sprang up between one of my best friends whose Christian name was Julien；
and myself。 They could not understand how two such intimate and
inseparable friends； as we had been； could suddenly become almost
strangers to one another； and I will tell you the reason of it。
〃He and I used to live together at one time。 We were never apart； and
the friendship that united us seemed so strong that nothing could break
it。
〃One evening when he came home； he told me that he was going to get
married； and it gave me a shock as if he had robbed me or betrayed me。
When a man's friend marries； it is all over between them。 The jealous
affection of a woman； that suspicious； uneasy and carnal affection； will
not tolerate the sturdy and frank attachment； that attachment of the
mind； of the heart； and that mutual confidence which exists between two
men。
〃You see； however great the love may be that unites them a man and a
woman are always strangers in mind and intellect； they remain
belligerents； they belong to different races。 There must always be a
conqueror and a conquered； a master and a slave； now the one； now the
otherthey are never two equals。 They press each other's hands； those
hands trembling with amorous passion； but they never press them with a
long； strong； loyal pressure； with that pressure which seems to open
hearts and to lay them bare in a burst of sincere； strong； manly
affection。 Philosophers of old； instead of marrying； and procreating as
a consolation for their old age children； who would abandon them； sought
for a good； reliable friend； and grew old with him in that communion of
thought which can only exist between men。
〃Well； my friend Julien married。 His wife was pretty； charming； a
little； curly…haired blonde； plump and lively； who seemed to worship him。
At first I went but rarely to their house； feeling myself de trop。 But；
somehow； they attracted me to their home； they were constantly inviting
me； and seemed very fond of me。 Consequently； by degrees； I allowed
myself to be allured by the charm of their life。 I often dined with
them； and frequently； when I returned home at night； thought that I would
do as he had done； and get married； as my empty house now seemed very
dull。
〃They appeared to be very much in love； and were never apart。
〃Well； one evening Julien wrote and asked me to go to dinner； and I
naturally went。
〃'My dear fellow；' he said； 'I must go out directly afterward on
business； and I shall not be back until eleven o'clock； but I shall be
back at eleven precisely； and