Discovery

by Guy de Maupassant

The ship was crowded with people and the voyage promised to be good. The boat started to shake and the huge engine began to turn, slowly at first, and then faster and faster.

We were moving along the shore, black with people. The people on the boat were waving and their friends on shore were answering in the same way.

The big July sun was shining down on the red umbrellas, the light dresses, the happy faces and on the ocean, which was as calm as a lake. When we were out of the harbour, the little boat pointed her nose towards the distant coast which was almost invisible in the early morning mist.

As soon as I am on a boat, I feel the need to walk up and down and I began to walk through the crowd of travellers. Suddenly I heard my name. I turned around and saw one of my old friends that I had not seen for ten years.

We shook hands and continued our walk together, talking about one thing or another. Suddenly my friend, who had been looking at the crowd of passengers, cried out angrily:

"It's disgusting. The boat is full of English people!"

It was full of them. The men were standing, looking at the ocean in an all-important way, as if to say: "We are the English, the kings of the sea! Here we are!"

The young girls, in multi-coloured dresses, were smiling emptily at the lovely scenery. Their small heads on the tops of their long bodies wore English hats of the strangest design.

And the old ladies, even thinner, opening their mouths to the wind, showed everyone their long, yellow teeth.

My friend repeated, with growing anger:

"Disgusting! Can we never stop them coming to France?"

I asked, smiling: "What have you got against them? They don't worry me."

He shouted out: "Of course they don't worry you! But I married one of them."

I stopped and laughed at him. "Go on, tell me about it. Does she make you very unhappy?"

"No, not exactly."

"Then I don't understand!"

"You don't understand? I'm not surprised. Well, she simply learnt how to speak French – that's all! Listen. I didn't want to get married when I went to spend the summer at Etretat two years ago. There is nothing more dangerous than holiday resorts. You have no idea how useful it is for young girls. Horse riding, sunbathing, breakfast on the grass, all these things are traps arranged for unmarried men. And, really, there is nothing prettier than a child about eighteen, running through a field or picking flowers along the road.

"I met an English family who were stopping at the same hotel as I was. The father looked like those men you see over there and the mother was like all other Englishwomen.

"They had two sons, the kind of boys who play games with balls, bats or racquets from morning till night. Then came two daughters, the older one a dry, tired English woman, the younger a dream of beauty, a heavenly blonde. When those young girls make up their minds to be pretty, they are really wonderful. This one had blue eyes, the kind of blue which seems to contain all the dreams, all the hopes and happiness of the world!

"You must not forget that we Frenchmen adore foreign women. As soon as we meet a Russian, an Italian, a Swede, a Spaniard, or an Englishwoman with a pretty face, we immediately fall in love with her. We go wild over everything foreign – clothes, hats, guns ... and women. But what a mistake!

"I believe it is the accent that attracts us in foreign women. As soon as a woman speaks our language badly we think she is lovely. If she uses the wrong word, she is marvellous and if she chats unintelligibly, she is perfect.

"My little English girl, Kate, spoke a language that I thought was like a miracle. At the beginning I could understand nothing, she invented so many new words. Then I fell absolutely in love with this strange dialect. Every evening at the hotel, we had long conversations which were impossible to understand.

"I married her! I loved her wildly, as one can only love in a dream. For true lovers only love a dream which has taken the shape of a woman.

"Well, the most stupid thing I ever did was to give my wife a French teacher. As long as she murdered the dictionary and tortured the grammar, I adored her. Our conversations were simple. They showed me her loveliness; she was a wonderful speaking diamond, a living doll made just to be kissed. She reminded me of the pretty little toys which say 'papa' and 'mamma' when you move them.

"Now she talks – badly, very badly. She makes as many mistakes as before but I can understand her.

"I have opened my doll to look inside – and I have seen. And now I have to talk to her!

"Ah! you don't know, like I do, the opinions, the ideas of a well-educated young English girl. I can blame her for nothing. But she repeats to me from morning till night sentences from a French textbook written in England for young ladies.

"You have seen those chocolates in gold and silver paper. I have one of them. I opened it before I could stop myself. I wanted to eat what was inside and it made me feel sick.

"I have married a parrot that an old English woman taught French. Now do you understand?"