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- Гай де Мопассан
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- Милый друг
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- Стр. 1/190
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Dear friend
After
changing
his
five-franc
piece
Georges
Duroy
left
the
restaurant
.
He
twisted
his
mustache
in
military
style
and
cast
a
rapid
,
sweeping
glance
upon
the
diners
,
among
whom
were
three
saleswomen
,
an
untidy
music-teacher
of
uncertain
age
,
and
two
women
with
their
husbands
.
When
he
reached
the
sidewalk
,
he
paused
to
consider
what
route
he
should
take
.
It
was
the
twenty-eighth
of
June
and
he
had
only
three
francs
in
his
pocket
to
last
him
the
remainder
of
the
month
.
That
meant
two
dinners
and
no
lunches
,
or
two
lunches
and
no
dinners
,
according
to
choice
.
As
he
pondered
upon
this
unpleasant
state
of
affairs
,
he
sauntered
down
Rue
Notre
Dame
de
Lorette
,
preserving
his
military
air
and
carriage
,
and
rudely
jostled
the
people
upon
the
streets
in
order
to
clear
a
path
for
himself
.
He
appeared
to
be
hostile
to
the
passers-by
,
and
even
to
the
houses
,
the
entire
city
.
Tall
,
well-built
,
fair
,
with
blue
eyes
,
a
curled
mustache
,
hair
naturally
wavy
and
parted
in
the
middle
,
he
recalled
the
hero
of
the
popular
romances
.
It
was
one
of
those
sultry
,
Parisian
evenings
when
not
a
breath
of
air
is
stirring
;
the
sewers
exhaled
poisonous
gases
and
the
restaurants
the
disagreeable
odors
of
cooking
and
of
kindred
smells
.
Porters
in
their
shirt-sleeves
,
astride
their
chairs
,
smoked
their
pipes
at
the
carriage
gates
,
and
pedestrians
strolled
leisurely
along
,
hats
in
hand
.
When
Georges
Duroy
reached
the
boulevard
he
halted
again
,
undecided
as
to
which
road
to
choose
.
Finally
he
turned
toward
the
Madeleine
and
followed
the
tide
of
people
.
The
large
,
well-patronized
cafes
tempted
Duroy
,
but
were
he
to
drink
only
two
glasses
of
beer
in
an
evening
,
farewell
to
the
meager
supper
the
following
night
!
Yet
he
said
to
himself
:
"
I
will
take
a
glass
at
the
Americain
.
By
Jove
,
I
am
thirsty
.
"
He
glanced
at
men
seated
at
the
tables
,
men
who
could
afford
to
slake
their
thirst
,
and
he
scowled
at
them
.
"
Rascals
!
"
he
muttered
.
If
he
could
have
caught
one
of
them
at
a
corner
in
the
dark
he
would
have
choked
him
without
a
scruple
!
He
recalled
the
two
years
spent
in
Africa
,
and
the
manner
in
which
he
had
extorted
money
from
the
Arabs
.
A
smile
hovered
about
his
lips
at
the
recollection
of
an
escapade
which
had
cost
three
men
their
lives
,
a
foray
which
had
given
his
two
comrades
and
himself
seventy
fowls
,
two
sheep
,
money
,
and
something
to
laugh
about
for
six
months
.
The
culprits
were
never
found
;
indeed
,
they
were
not
sought
for
,
the
Arab
being
looked
upon
as
the
soldier
's
prey
.
But
in
Paris
it
was
different
;
there
one
could
not
commit
such
deeds
with
impunity
.
He
regretted
that
he
had
not
remained
where
he
was
;
but
he
had
hoped
to
improve
his
condition
--
and
for
that
reason
he
was
in
Paris
!
He
passed
the
Vaudeville
and
stopped
at
the
Cafe
Americain
,
debating
as
to
whether
he
should
take
that
"
glass
.
"
Before
deciding
,
he
glanced
at
a
clock
;
it
was
a
quarter
past
nine
.
