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- Гай де Мопассан
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From
that
time
Georges
never
called
Charles
anything
but
"
poor
Charles
,
"
with
an
accent
of
infinite
pity
.
One
evening
as
Du
Roy
was
smoking
a
cigarette
at
his
window
,
toward
the
end
of
June
,
the
heat
awoke
in
him
a
desire
for
fresh
air
.
He
asked
:
"
My
little
Made
,
would
you
like
to
go
as
far
as
the
Bois
?
"
"
Yes
,
certainly
.
"
They
took
an
open
carriage
and
drove
to
the
Avenue
du
Bois
de
Boulogne
.
It
was
a
sultry
evening
;
a
host
of
cabs
lined
the
drive
,
one
behind
another
.
When
the
carriage
containing
Georges
and
Madeleine
reached
the
turning
which
led
to
the
fortifications
,
they
kissed
one
another
and
Madeleine
stammered
in
confusion
:
"
We
are
as
childish
as
we
were
at
Rouen
.
"
The
road
they
followed
was
not
so
much
frequented
,
a
gentle
breeze
rustled
the
leaves
of
the
trees
,
the
sky
was
studded
with
brilliant
stars
and
Georges
murmured
,
as
he
pressed
his
wife
to
his
breast
:
"
Oh
,
my
little
Made
.
"
She
said
to
him
:
"
Do
you
remember
how
gloomy
the
forest
at
Canteleu
was
?
It
seemed
to
me
that
it
was
full
of
horrible
beasts
and
that
it
was
interminable
,
while
here
it
is
charming
.
One
can
feel
the
caressing
breezes
,
and
I
know
that
Sevres
is
on
the
other
side
.
"
He
replied
:
"
In
our
forests
there
are
nothing
but
stags
,
foxes
,
roebucks
,
and
boars
,
with
here
and
there
a
forester
's
house
.
"
He
paused
for
a
moment
and
then
asked
:
"
Did
you
come
here
in
the
evening
with
Charles
occasionally
?
"
She
replied
:
"
Frequently
.
"
He
felt
a
desire
to
return
home
at
once
.
Forestier
's
image
haunted
him
,
however
;
he
could
think
of
nothing
else
.
The
carriage
rolled
on
toward
the
Arc
de
Triomphe
and
joined
the
stream
of
carriages
returning
home
