How name a thing that is nameless? Was I good or bad? Was I distrustful
or a fool? It is useless to reflect on it; it happened thus.
One of our neighbors was a young woman by the name of Madame Daniel, she
possessed some beauty, and still more coquetry; she was poor but tried to
pass for rich; she would come to see us after dinner and always played a
heavy game against us, although her losses embarrassed her; she sang but
had no voice. In the solitude of that unknown village, where an unkind
fate had buried her, she was consumed with an uncontrollable passion for
pleasure. She talked of nothing but Paris, where she visited two or three
times a year; she pretended to keep up with the fashions; my dear
Brigitte assisted her as best she could, while smiling with pity. Her
husband was employed by the government; he, once a year, would take her
to the house of the chief of his department where, attired in her best,
the little woman danced to her heart's content. She would return with
shining eyes and tired body; she would come to us to tell of her prowess,
and her success in assaulting the masculine heart. The rest of the time
she read novels, never taking the trouble to look after her household
affairs, which were not always in the best condition.
Every time I saw her I laughed at her, finding nothing so ridiculous as
the high life she thought she was leading; I would interrupt her
description of a ball to inquire about her husband and her father-in-law,
both of whom she detested, the one because he was her husband, and the
other because he was only a peasant; in short, we were always disputing
on some subject.
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