Original　Short　Stories；　Vol。　8。
  By　Guy　de　Maupassant
  VOLUME　VIII。
  CLOCHETTE
  THE　KISS
  THE　LEGION　OF　HONOR
  THE　TEST
  FOUND　ON　A　DROWNED　MAN
  THE　ORPHAN
  THE　BEGGAR
  THE　RABBIT
  HIS　AVENGER
  MY　UNCLE　JULES
  THE　MODEL
  A　VAGABOND
  THE　FISHING　HOLE
  THE　SPASM
  IN　THE　WOOD
  MARTINE
  ALL　OVER
  THE　PARROT
  A　PIECE　OF　STRING
  CLOCHETTE
  How　strange　those　old　recollections　are　which　haunt　us；　without　our　being
  able　to　get　rid　of　them。
  This　one　is　so　very　old　that　I　cannot　understand　how　it　has　clung　so
  vividly　and　tenaciously　to　my　memory。　　Since　then　I　have　seen　so　many
  sinister　things；　which　were　either　affecting　or　terrible；　that　I　am
  astonished　at　not　being　able　to　pass　a　single　day　without　the　face　of
  Mother　Bellflower　recurring　to　my　mind's　eye；　just　as　I　knew　her
  formerly；　now　so　long　ago；　when　I　was　ten　or　twelve　years　old。
  She　was　an　old　seamstress　who　came　to　my　parents'　house　once　a　week；
  every　Thursday；　to　mend　the　linen。　　My　parents　lived　in　one　of　those
  country　houses　called　chateaux；　which　are　merely　old　houses　with　gable
  roofs；　to　which　are　attached　three　or　four　farms　lying　around　them。
  The　village；　a　large　village；　almost　a　market　town；　was　a　few　hundred
  yards　away；　closely　circling　the　church；　a　red　brick　church；　black　with
  age。
  Well；　every　Thursday　Mother　Clochette　came　between　half…past　six　and
  seven　in　the　morning；　and　went　immediately　into　the　linen…room　and　began
  to　work。　　She　was　a　tall；　thin；　bearded　or　rather　hairy　woman；　for　she
  had　a　beard　all　over　her　face；　a　surprising；　an　unexpected　beard；　growing
  in　improbable　tufts；　in　curly　bunches　which　looked　as　if　they　had　been
  sown　by　a　madman　over　that　great　face　of　a　gendarme　in　petticoats。　　She
  had　them　on　her　nose；　under　her　nose；　round　her　nose；　on　her　chin；　on　her
  cheeks；　and　her　eyebrows；　which　were　extraordinarily　thick　and　long；　and
  quite　gray；　bushy　and　bristling；　looked　exactly　like　a　pair　of　mustaches
  stuck　on　there　by　mistake。
  She　limped；　not　as　lame　people　generally　do；　but　like　a　ship　at　anchor。
  When　she　planted　her　great；　bony；　swerving　body　on　her　sound　leg；　she
  seemed　to　be　preparing　to　mount　some　enormous　wave；　and　then　suddenly　she
  dipped　as　if　to　disappear　in　an　abyss；　and　buried　herself　in　the　ground。
  Her　walk　reminded　one　of　a　storm；　as　she　swayed　about；　and　her　head；
  which　was　always　covered　with　an　enormous　white　cap；　whose　ribbons
  fluttered　down　her　back；　seemed　to　traverse　the　horizon　from　north　to
  south　and　from　south　to　north；　at　each　step。
  I　adored　Mother　Clochette。　　As　soon　as　I　was　up　I　went　into　the　linen…
  room　where　I　found　her　installed　at　work；　with　a　foot…warmer　under　her
  feet。　　As　soon　as　I　arrived；　she　made　me　take　the　foot…warmer　and　sit
  upon　it；　so　that　I　might　not　catch　cold　in　that　large；　chilly　room　under
  the　roof。
  〃That　draws　the　blood　from　your　throat；〃　she　said　to　me。
  She　told　me　stories；　whilst　mending　the　linen　with　her　long　crooked
  nimble　fingers；　her　eyes　behind　her　magnifying　spectacles；　for　age　had
  impaired　her　sight；　appeared　enormous　to　me；　strangely　profound；　double。
  She　had；　as　far　as　I　can　remember　the　things　which　she　told　me　and　by
  which　my　childish　heart　was　moved；　the　large　heart　of　a　poor　woman。　　She
  told　me　what　had　happened　in　the　village；　how　a　cow　had　escaped　from　the
  cow…house　and　had　been　found　the　next　morning　in　front　of　Prosper　Malet's
  windmill；　looking　at　the　sails　turning；　or　about　a　hen's　egg　which　had
  been　found　in　the　church　belfry　without　any　one　being　able　to　understand
  what　creature　had　been　there　to　lay　it；　or　the　story　of　Jean…Jean　Pila's
  dog；　who　had　been　ten　leagues　to　bring　back　his　master's　breeches　which　a
  tramp　had　stolen　whilst　they　were　hanging　up　to　dry　out　of　doors；　after
  he　had　been　in　the　rain。　　She　told　me　these　simple　adventures　in　such　a
  manner；　that　in　my　mind　they　assumed　the　proportions　of　never…to…be
  …forgotten　dramas；　of　grand　and　mysterious　poems；　and　the　ingenious
  stories　invented　by　the　poets　which　my　mother　told　me　in　the　evening；　had
  none　of　the　flavor；　none　of　the　breadth　or　vigor　of　the　peasant　woman's
  narratives。
  Well；　one　Tuesday；　when　I　had　spent　all　the　morning　in　listening　to
  Mother　Clochette；　I　wanted　to　go　upstairs　to　her　again　during　the　day
  after　picking　hazelnuts　with　the　manservant　in　the　wood　behind　the　farm。
  I　remember　it　all　as　clearly　as　what　happened　only　yesterday。
  On　opening　the　door　of　the　linen…room；　I　saw　the　old　seamstress　lying　on
  the　ground　by　the　side　of　her　chair；　with　her　face　to　the　ground　and　her
  arms　stretched　out；　but　still　holding　her　needle　in　one　hand　and　one　of
  my　shirts　in　the　other。　　One　of　her　legs　in　a　blue　stocking；　the　longer
  one；　no　doubt；　was　extended　under　her　chair；　and　her　spectacles　glistened
  against　the　wall；　as　they　had　rolled　away　from　her。
  I　ran　away　uttering　shrill　cries。　　They　all　came　running；　and　in　a　few
  minutes　I　was　told　that　Mother　Clochette　was　dead。
  I　cannot　describe　the　profound；　poignant；　terrible　emotion　which　stirred
  my　childish　heart。　　I　went　slowly　down　into　the　drawing…room　and　hid
  myself　in　a　dark　corner；　in　the　depths　of　an　immense　old　armchair；　where
  I　knelt　down　and　wept。　　I　remained　there　a　long　time；　no　doubt；　for　night
  came　on。　　Suddenly　somebody　came　in　with　a　lamp；　without　seeing　me；
  however；　and　I　heard　my　father　and　mother　talking　with　the　medical　man；
  whose　voice　I　recognized。
  He　had　been　sent　for　immediately；　and　he　was　explaining　the　causes　of　the
  accident；　of　which　I　understood　nothing；　however。　　Then　he　sat　down　and
  had　a　glass　of　liqueur　and　a　biscuit。
  He　went　on　talking；　and　what　he　then　said　will　remain　engraved　on　my　mind
  until　I　die！　　I　think　that　I　can　give　the　exact　words　which　he　used。
  〃Ah！〃　said　he；　〃the　poor　woman！　　She　broke　her　leg　the　day　of　my　arrival
  here；　and　I　had　not　even　had　time　to　wash　my　hands　after　getting　off　the
  diligence　before　I　was　sent　for　in　all　haste；　for　it　was　a　bad　case；　very
  bad。
  〃She　was　seventeen；　and　a　pretty　girl；　very　pretty！　　Would　any　one
  believe　it？　　I　have　never　told　her　story　before；　and　nobody　except　myself
  and　one　other　person　who　is　no　longer　living　in　this　part　of　the　country
  ever　knew　it。　　Now　that　she　is　dead；　I　may　be　less　discreet。
  〃Just　then　a　young　assistant…teacher　came　to　live　in　the　village；　he　was
  a　handsome；　well…made　fellow；　and　looked　like　a　non…commissioned　officer。
  All　the　girls　ran　after　him；　but　he　paid　no　attention　to　them；　partly
  because　he　was　very　much　afraid　of　his　superior；　the　schoolmaster；　old
  Grabu；　who　occasionally　got　out　of　bed　the　wrong　foot　first。
  〃Old　Grabu　already　employed　pretty　Hortense　who　has　just　died　here；　and
  who　was　afterwards　nicknamed　Clochette。　　The　assistant　master　singled　out
  the　pretty　young　girl；　who　was；　no　doubt；　flattered　at　being　chosen　by
  this　impregnable　conqueror；　at　any　rate；　she　fell　in　love　with　him；　and
  he　succeeded　in　persuading　her　to　give　him　a　first　meeting　in　the　hay…
  loft　behind　the　school；　at　night；　after　she　had　done　her　day's　sewing。
  〃She　pretended　to　go　home；　but　instead　of　going　downstairs　when　she　left
  the　Grabus'　she　went　upstairs　and　hid　among　the　hay；　to　wait　for　her
  lover。　　He　soon　joined　her；　and　was　beginning　to　say　pretty　things　to
  her；　when　the　door　of　the　hay…loft　opened　and　the　schoolmaster　appeared；
  and　asked：　'What　are　you　doing　up　there；　Sigisbert？'　　Feeling　sure　that
  he　would　be　caught；　the　young　schoolmaster　lost　his　presence　of　mind　and
  replied　stupidly：　'I　came　up　here　to　rest　a　little　amongst　the　bundles　of
  hay；　Monsieur　Grabu。'
  〃The　loft　was　very　large　and　absolutely　dark；　and　Sigisbert　pushed　the
  frightened　girl　to　the　further　end　and　said：　'Go　over　there　and　hide
  yourself。　　I　shall　lose　my　position；　so　get　away　and　hide　yourself。'
  〃When　the　schoolmaster　heard　the　whispering；　he　continued：　'Why；　you　are
  not　by　yourself？'　'Yes；　I　am；　Monsieur　Grabu！'　'But　you　are　not；　for　you
  are　talking。'　'I　swear　I　am；　Monsieur　Grabu。'　'I　will　soon　find　out；'　the
  old　man　replied；　and　double　locking　the　door；　he　went　down　to　get　a
  light。
  〃Then　the　young　man；　who　was　a　coward　such　as　one　frequently　meets；　lost
  his　head；　and　becoming　furious　all　of　a　sudden；　he　repeated：　'Hide
  yourself；　so　that　he　may　not　find　you。　　You　will　keep　me　from　making　a
  living　for　the　rest　of　my　life；　you　will　ruin　my　whole　career。　　Do　hide
  yourself！'　　They　could　hear　the　key　turning　in　the　lock　again；　and
  Hortense　ran　to　the　window　which　looked　out　on　the　street；　opened　it
  quickly；　and　then　said　in　a　low　and　determined　voice：　'You　will　come　and
  pick　me　up　when　he　is　gone；'　and　she　jumped　out。
  〃Old　Grabu　found　nobody；　and　went　down　again　in　great　surprise；　and　a
  quarter　of　an　hour　later；　Monsieur　Sigisbert　came　to　me　and　related　his
  adventure。　　The　girl　had　remained　at　the　foot　of　the　wall　unable　to　get
  up；　as　she　had　fallen　from　the　second　story；　and　I　went　with　him　to　fetch
  her。　　It　was　raining　in　torrents；　and　I　brought　the　unfortunate　girl　home
  with　me；　for　the　right　leg　was　broken　in　three　places；　and　the　bones　had
  come　trough　the　flesh。　　She　did　not　complain；　and　merely　said；　with
  admirable　resignation：　'I　am　punished；　well　punished！'
  〃I　sent　for　assistance　and　for　th