Suddenly he noticed two elegantly dressed ladies to whom two gentlemen
were offering oysters。 An old； ragged sailor was opening them with his
knife and passing them to the gentlemen； who would then offer them to the
ladies。 They ate them in a dainty manner； holding the shell on a fine
handkerchief and advancing their mouths a little in order not to spot
their dresses。 Then they would drink the liquid with a rapid little
motion and throw the shell overboard。
〃My father was probably pleased with this delicate manner of eating
oysters on a moving ship。 He considered it good form； refined； and；
going up to my mother and sisters； he asked：
〃'Would you like me to offer you some oysters？'
〃My mother hesitated on account of the expense； but my two sisters
immediately accepted。 My mother said in a provoked manner：
〃'I am afraid that they will hurt my stomach。 Offer the children some；
but not too much； it would make them sick。' Then； turning toward me； she
added：
〃'As for Joseph； he doesn't need any。 Boys shouldn't be spoiled。'
〃However； I remained beside my mother； finding this discrimination
unjust。 I watched my father as he pompously conducted my two sisters and
his son…in…law toward the ragged old sailor。
〃The two ladies had just left； and my father showed my sisters how to eat
them without spilling the liquor。 He even tried to give them an example；
and seized an oyster。 He attempted to imitate the ladies； and
immediately spilled all the liquid over his coat。 I heard my mother
mutter：
〃'He would do far better to keep quiet。'
〃But； suddenly； my father appeared to be worried； he retreated a few
steps； stared at his family gathered around the old shell opener； and
quickly came toward us。 He seemed very pale； with a peculiar look。 In a
low voice he said to my mother：
〃'It's extraordinary how that man opening the oysters looks like Jules。'
〃Astonished； my mother asked：
〃'What Jules？'
〃My father continued：
〃'Why； my brother。 If I did not know that he was well off in America； I
should think it was he。'
〃Bewildered； my mother stammered：
〃'You are crazy！ As long as you know that it is not he； why do you say
such foolish things？'
〃But my father insisted：
〃'Go on over and see； Clarisse！ I would rather have you see with your
own eyes。'
〃She arose and walked to her daughters。 I； too； was watching the man。
He was old； dirty； wrinkled； and did not lift his eyes from his work。
〃My mother returned。 I noticed that she was trembling。 She exclaimed
quickly：
〃'I believe that it is he。 Why don't you ask the captain？ But be very
careful that we don't have this rogue on our hands again！'
〃My father walked away； but I followed him。 I felt strangely moved。
〃The captain； a tall； thin man； with blond whiskers； was walking along
the bridge with an important air as if he were commanding the Indian mail
steamer。
〃My father addressed him ceremoniously； and questioned him about his
profession； adding many compliments：
〃'What might be the importance of Jersey？ What did it produce？ What was
the population？ The customs？ The nature of the soil？' etc。； etc。
〃'You have there an old shell opener who seems quite interesting。 Do you
know anything about him？'
〃The captain； whom this conversation began to weary； answered dryly：
〃'He is some old French tramp whom I found last year in America； and I
brought him back。 It seems that he has some relatives in Havre； but that
he doesn't wish to return to them because he owes them money。 His name
is JulesJules Darmanche or Darvanche or something like that。 It seems
that he was once rich over there； but you can see what's left of him
now。'
〃My father turned ashy pale and muttered； his throat contracted； his eyes
haggard。
〃'Ah！ ah！ very well； very well。 I'm not in the least surprised。 Thank
you very much； captain。'
〃He went away； and the astonished sailor watched him disappear。 He
returned to my mother so upset that she said to him：
〃'Sit down； some one will notice that something is the matter。'
〃He sank down on a bench and stammered：
〃'It's he！ It's he！'
〃Then he asked：
〃'What are we going to do？'
〃She answered quickly：
〃'We must get the children out of the way。 Since Joseph knows
everything； he can go and get them。 We must take good care that our son…
in…law doesn't find out。'
〃My father seemed absolutely bewildered。 He murmured：
〃'What a catastrophe！'
〃Suddenly growing furious； my mother exclaimed：
〃'I always thought that that thief never would do anything； and that he
would drop down on us again！ As if one could expect anything from a
Davranche！'
〃My father passed his hand over his forehead； as he always did when his
wife reproached him。 She added：
〃'Give Joseph some money so that he can pay for the oysters。 All that it
needed to cap the climax would be to be recognized by that beggar。 That
would be very pleasant！ Let's get down to the other end of the boat； and
take care that that man doesn't come near us！'
〃They gave me five francs and walked away。
〃Astonished； my sisters were awaiting their father。 I said that mamma
had felt a sudden attack of sea…sickness； and I asked the shell opener：
〃'How much do we owe you； monsieur？'
〃I felt like laughing： he was my uncle！ He answered：
〃'Two francs fifty。'
〃I held out my five francs and he returned the change。 I looked at his
hand； it was a poor； wrinkled； sailor's hand； and I looked at his face；
an unhappy old face。 I said to myself：
〃'That is my uncle； the brother of my father； my uncle！'
〃I gave him a ten…cent tip。 He thanked me：
〃'God bless you； my young sir！'
〃He spoke like a poor man receiving alms。 I couldn't help thinking that
he must have begged over there！ My sisters looked at me； surprised at my
generosity。 When I returned the two francs to my father； my mother asked
me in surprise：
〃'Was there three francs' worth？ That is impossible。'
〃I answered in a firm voice
〃'I gave ten cents as a tip。'
〃My mother started； and； staring at me； she exclaimed：
〃'You must be crazy！ Give ten cents to that man； to that vagabond'
〃She stopped at a look from my father； who was pointing at his son…in…
law。 Then everybody was silent。
〃Before us； on the distant horizon； a purple shadow seemed to rise out of
the sea。 It was Jersey。
〃As we approached the breakwater a violent desire seized me once more to
see my Uncle Jules； to be near him； to say to him something consoling；
something tender。 But as no one was eating any more oysters； he had
disappeared； having probably gone below to the dirty hold which was the
home of the poor wretch。〃
THE MODEL
Curving like a crescent moon； the little town of Etretat； with its white
cliffs； its white； shingly beach and its blue sea； lay in the sunlight at
high noon one July day。 At either extremity of this crescent its two
〃gates；〃 the smaller to the right； the larger one at the left； stretched
forthone a dwarf and the other a colossal limbinto the water； and the
bell tower； almost as tall as the cliff； wide below； narrowing at the
top； raised its pointed summit to the sky。
On the sands beside the water a crowd was seated watching the bathers。
On the terrace of； the Casino another crowd； seated or walking； displayed
beneath the brilliant sky a perfect flower patch of bright costumes； with
red and blue parasols embroidered with large flowers in silk。
On the walk at the end of the terrace； other persons； the restful； quiet
ones； were walking slowly； far from the dressy throng。
A young man； well known and celebrated as a painter； Jean Sumner； was
walking with a dejected air beside a wheeled chair in which sat a young
woman； his wife。 A manservant was gently pushing the chair； and the
crippled woman was gazing sadly at the brightness of the sky； the
gladness of the day； and the happiness of others。
They did not speak。 They did not look at each other。
〃Let us stop a while；〃 said the young woman。
They stopped； and the painter sat down on a camp stool that the servant
handed him。
Those who were passing behind the silent and motionless couple looked at
them compassionately。 A whole legend of devotion was attached to them。
He had married her in spite of her infirmity； touched by her affection
for him； it was said。
Not far from there； two young men were chatting； seated on a bench and
looking out into the horizon。
〃No； it is not true； I tell you that I am well acquainted with Jean
Sumner。〃
〃But then； why did he marry her？ For she was a cripple when she married；
was she not？〃
〃Just so。 He married herhe married herjust as every one marries；
parbleu！ because he was an idiot！〃
〃But why？〃
〃But whybut why； my friend？ There is no why。 People do stupid things
just because they do stupid things。 And； besides； you know very well
that painters make a specialty of foolish marriages。 They almost always
marry models； former sweethearts； in fact； women of doubtful reputation；
frequently。 Why do they do this？ Who can say？ One would suppose that
constant association with the general run of models would disgust them
forever with that class of women。 Not at all。 After having posed them
they marry them。 Read that little book； so true； so cruel and so
beautiful； by Alphonse Daudet： 'Artists' Wives。'
〃In the case of the couple you see over there the accident occurred in a
special and terrible manner。 The little woman played a frightful comedy；
or； rather； tragedy。 She risked all to win all。 Was she sincere？ Did
she love Jean？ Shall we ever know？ Who is able to determine precisely
how much is put on and how much is real in the actions of a woman？ They
are always sincere in an eternal mobility of impressions。 They are
furious； criminal； devoted； admirable and base in obedience to intangible
emotions。 They tell lies incessantly without intention； without knowing
or understanding why； and in spite of it all are absolutely frank in
their feelings and sentiments； which they display by violent； unexpected；
incomprehensible； foolish resolutions which overthrow our arguments； our
customary poise and all