Jewels

After featuring last week one of the stories by O.Henry, who was called “the American answer to Guy de Maupassant” it’s only natural to showcase a story by the famous French short story writer and novelist, whose work influenced many other writers, like Anton Chekhov, W. Somerset Maugham. One of Maupassant’s horror stories, The Inn, bears lots of similarities with Stephen King’s novel “The Shining”.

Guy de Maupassant (1850 – 1893) was one of the rare writers who were recognized from almost the beginning of the writer’s career. But the success, popularity and numerous affairs have destroyed him. He was never married, suffered from illness and depression and died in a mental institution. The madness is a reoccurring theme in many of his stories. His friend Emile Zola described him as “the happiest and unhappiest of men”.

Today’s story is one of Maupassant’s stories with the twist ending, written in a typical pessimistic style depicting real people and true emotions, serving us with a reminder to cherish what we have in life when we have it.

The Jewels of M. Lantin

by Guy de Maupassant

Monsieur Lantin had met the young girl at a reception at the house of the second head of his department, and had fallen head over heels in love with her.

She was the daughter of a provincial tax collector, who had been dead several years. She and her mother came to live in Paris, where the latter, who made the acquaintance of some of the families in her neighborhood, hoped to find a husband for her daughter.

They had very moderate means, and were honorable, gentle, and quiet.

The young girl was a perfect type of the virtuous woman in whose hands every sensible young man dreams of one day intrusting his happiness. Her simple beauty had the charm of angelic modesty, and the imperceptible smile which constantly hovered about the lips seemed to be the reflection of a pure and lovely soul. Her praises resounded on every side. People never tired of repeating: “Happy the man who wins her love! He could not find a better wife.”

Monsieur Lantin, then chief clerk in the Department of the Interior, enjoyed a snug little salary of three thousand five hundred francs, and he proposed to this model young girl, and was accepted.

He was unspeakably happy with her. She governed his household with such clever economy that they seemed to live in luxury. She lavished the most delicate attentions on her husband, coaxed and fondled him; and so great was her charm that six years after their marriage, Monsieur Lantin discovered that he loved his wife even more than during the first days of their honeymoon.

He found fault with only two of her tastes: Her love for the theatre, and her taste for imitation jewelry. Her friends (the wives of some petty officials) frequently procured for her a box at the theatre, often for the first representations of the new plays; and her husband was obliged to accompany her, whether he wished it or not, to these entertainments which bored him excessively after his day’s work at the office.

After a time, Monsieur Lantin begged his wife to request some lady of her acquaintance to accompany her, and to bring her home after the theatre. She opposed this arrangement, at first; but, after much persuasion, finally consented, to the infinite delight of her husband.

Now, with her love for the theatre, came also the desire for ornaments. Her costumes remained as before, simple, in good taste, and always modest; but she soon began to adorn her ears with huge rhinestones, which glittered and sparkled like real diamonds. Around her neck she wore strings of false pearls, on her arms bracelets of imitation gold, and combs set with glass jewels.

Her husband frequently remonstrated with her, saying:

“My dear, as you cannot afford to buy real jewelry, you ought to appear adorned with your beauty and modesty alone, which are the rarest ornaments of your sex.”

But she would smile sweetly, and say:

“What can I do? I am so fond of jewelry. It is my only weakness. We cannot change our nature.”

Then she would wind the pearl necklace round her fingers, make the facets of the crystal gems sparkle, and say:

“Look! are they not lovely? One would swear they were real.”

Monsieur Lantin would then answer, smilingly:

“You have bohemian tastes, my dear.”

Sometimes, of an evening, when they were enjoying a tete-a-tote by the fireside, she would place on the tea table the morocco leather box containing the “trash,” as Monsieur Lantin called it. She would examine the false gems with a passionate attention, as though they imparted some deep and secret joy; and she often persisted in passing a necklace around her husband’s neck, and, laughing heartily, would exclaim: “How droll you look!” Then she would throw herself into his arms, and kiss him affectionately.

One evening, in winter, she had been to the opera, and returned home chilled through and through. The next morning she coughed, and eight days later she died of inflammation of the lungs.

Monsieur Lantin’s despair was so great that his hair became white in one month. He wept unceasingly; his heart was broken as he remembered her smile, her voice, every charm of his dead wife.

Time did not assuage his grief. Often, during office hours, while his colleagues were discussing the topics of the day, his eyes would suddenly fill with tears, and he would give vent to his grief in heartrending sobs. Everything in his wife’s room remained as it was during her lifetime; all her furniture, even her clothing, being left as it was on the day of her death. Here he was wont to seclude himself daily and think of her who had been his treasure-the joy of his existence.

But life soon became a struggle. His income, which, in the hands of his wife, covered all household expenses, was now no longer sufficient for his own immediate wants; and he wondered how she could have managed to buy such excellent wine and the rare delicacies which he could no longer procure with his modest resources.

He incurred some debts, and was soon reduced to absolute poverty. One morning, finding himself without a cent in his pocket, he resolved to sell something, and immediately the thought occurred to him of disposing of his wife’s paste jewels, for he cherished in his heart a sort of rancor against these “deceptions,” which had always irritated him in the past. The very sight of them spoiled, somewhat, the memory of his lost darling.

To the last days of her life she had continued to make purchases, bringing home new gems almost every evening, and he turned them over some time before finally deciding to sell the heavy necklace, which she seemed to prefer, and which, he thought, ought to be worth about six or seven francs; for it was of very fine workmanship, though only imitation.

He put it in his pocket, and started out in search of what seemed a reliable jeweler’s shop. At length he found one, and went in, feeling a little ashamed to expose his misery, and also to offer such a worthless article for sale.

“Sir,” said he to the merchant, “I would like to know what this is worth.”

The man took the necklace, examined it, called his clerk, and made some remarks in an undertone; he then put the ornament back on the counter, and looked at it from a distance to judge of the effect.

Monsieur Lantin, annoyed at all these ceremonies, was on the point of saying: “Oh! I know well ‘enough it is not worth anything,” when the jeweler said: “Sir, that necklace is worth from twelve to fifteen thousand francs; but I could not buy it, unless you can tell me exactly where it came from.”

The widower opened his eyes wide and remained gaping, not comprehending the merchant’s meaning. Finally he stammered: “You say–are you sure?’ The other replied, drily: “You can try elsewhere and see if any one will offer you more. I consider it worth fifteen thousand at the most. Come back; here, if you cannot do better.”

Monsieur Lantin, beside himself with astonishment, took up the necklace and left the store. He wished time for reflection.

Once outside, he felt inclined to laugh, and said to himself: “The fool! Oh, the fool! Had I only taken him at his word! That jeweler cannot distinguish real diamonds from the imitation article.”

A few minutes after, he entered another store, in the Rue de la Paix. As soon as the proprietor glanced at the necklace, he cried out:

“Ah, parbleu! I know it well; it was bought here.”

Monsieur Lantin, greatly disturbed, asked:

“How much is it worth?”

“Well, I sold it for twenty thousand francs. I am willing to take it back for eighteen thousand, when you inform me, according to our legal formality, how it came to be in your possession.”

This time, Monsieur Lantin was dumfounded. He replied:

“But–but–examine it well. Until this moment I was under the impression that it was imitation.”

The jeweler asked:

“What is your name, sir?”

“Lantin–I am in the employ of the Minister of the Interior. I live at number sixteen Rue des Martyrs.”

The merchant looked through his books, found the entry, and said: “That necklace was sent to Madame Lantin’s address, sixteen Rue des Martyrs, July 20, 1876.”

The two men looked into each other’s eyes–the widower speechless with astonishment; the jeweler scenting a thief. The latter broke the silence.

“Will you leave this necklace here for twenty-four hours?” said he; “I will give you a receipt.”

Monsieur Lantin answered hastily: “Yes, certainly.” Then, putting the ticket in his pocket, he left the store.

He wandered aimlessly through the streets, his mind in a state of dreadful confusion. He tried to reason, to understand. His wife could not afford to purchase such a costly ornament. Certainly not.

But, then, it must have been a present!–a present!–a present, from whom? Why was it given her?

He stopped, and remained standing in the middle of the street. A horrible doubt entered his mind–She? Then, all the other jewels must have been presents, too! The earth seemed to tremble beneath him–the tree before him to be falling; he threw up his arms, and fell to the ground, unconscious. He recovered his senses in a pharmacy, into which the passers-by had borne him. He asked to be taken home, and, when he reached the house, he shut himself up in his room, and wept until nightfall. Finally, overcome with fatigue, he went to bed and fell into a heavy sleep.

The sun awoke him next morning, and he began to dress slowly to go to the office. It was hard to work after such shocks. He sent a letter to his employer, requesting to be excused. Then he remembered that he had to return to the jeweler’s. He did not like the idea; but he could not leave the necklace with that man. He dressed and went out.

It was a lovely day; a clear, blue sky smiled on the busy city below. Men of leisure were strolling about with their hands in their pockets.

Monsieur Lantin, observing them, said to himself: “The rich, indeed, are happy. With money it is possible to forget even the deepest sorrow. One can go where one pleases, and in travel find that distraction which is the surest cure for grief. Oh if I were only rich!”

He perceived that he was hungry, but his pocket was empty. He again remembered the necklace. Eighteen thousand francs! Eighteen thousand francs! What a sum!

He soon arrived in the Rue de la Paix, opposite the jeweler’s. Eighteen thousand francs! Twenty times he resolved to go in, but shame kept him back. He was hungry, however–very hungry–and not a cent in his pocket. He decided quickly, ran across the street, in order not to have time for reflection, and rushed into the store.

The proprietor immediately came forward, and politely offered him a chair; the clerks glanced at him knowingly.

“I have made inquiries, Monsieur Lantin,” said the jeweler, “and if you are still resolved to dispose of the gems, I am ready to pay you the price I offered.”

“Certainly, sir,” stammered Monsieur Lantin.

Whereupon the proprietor took from a drawer eighteen large bills, counted, and handed them to Monsieur Lantin, who signed a receipt; and, with trembling hand, put the money into his pocket.

As he was about to leave the store, he turned toward the merchant, who still wore the same knowing smile, and lowering his eyes, said:

“I have–I have other gems, which came from the same source. Will you buy them, also?”

The merchant bowed: “Certainly, sir.”

Monsieur Lantin said gravely: “I will bring them to you.” An hour later, he returned with the gems.

The large diamond earrings were worth twenty thousand francs; the bracelets, thirty-five thousand; the rings, sixteen thousand; a set of emeralds and sapphires, fourteen thousand; a gold chain with solitaire pendant, forty thousand–making the sum of one hundred and forty-three thousand francs.

The jeweler remarked, jokingly:

“There was a person who invested all her savings in precious stones.”

Monsieur Lantin replied, seriously:

“It is only another way of investing one’s money.”

That day he lunched at Voisin’s, and drank wine worth twenty francs a bottle. Then he hired a carriage and made a tour of the Bois. He gazed at the various turnouts with a kind of disdain, and could hardly refrain from crying out to the occupants:

“I, too, am rich!–I am worth two hundred thousand francs.”

Suddenly he thought of his employer. He drove up to the bureau, and entered gaily, saying:

“Sir, I have come to resign my position. I have just inherited three hundred thousand francs.”

He shook hands with his former colleagues, and confided to them some of his projects for the future; he then went off to dine at the Cafe Anglais.

He seated himself beside a gentleman of aristocratic bearing; and, during the meal, informed the latter confidentially that he had just inherited a fortune of four hundred thousand francs.

For the first time in his life, he was not bored at the theatre, and spent the remainder of the night in a gay frolic.

Six months afterward, he married again. His second wife was a very virtuous woman; but had a violent temper. She caused him much sorrow.

Recent Bits
Related Bits
A Bit Of Literature – Electrification
A Bit Of Literature – Born Of Man And Woman
A Bit Of Literature – A Naughty Boy
A Bit Of Literature – Zen Stories
A Bit Of Literature – Papa Panov’s Special Christmas
8 Goals For Inspiration Bit In 2008
There Is Always Light At The End Of The Tunnel
A Bit Of Literature – You Were Perfectly Fine
Comment Bits

9 Insightful Bits in response to “A Bit Of Literature – The Jewels of M. Lantin”

  1. I’ve marked this to read tomorrow. Thanks again for my regular bit of lit. What would I do without them?

  2. Vivien

    I don’t know… how did you do without them before? ;-)

    Look forward to getting your feedback about this story after you read it. Thanks for being such a loyal reader of my Lit Bit, John.

  3. This story reminds me of another short story about a woman who was so obessed with appearences. She had to have a string of beautiful pearls for some festivity and she borrowed them from a friend but lost them and she and her husband had to replace them before the friend found out. They ended up spending their entire “fortune” on a new string of pearls, the woman was miserable, but she was able to return the pearls, of course, only to find out the ones she’d borrowed from the friend were costume jewlery! I wonder if it’s by the same author.

    Ah! I found it! It is by the same author. This one is called The Diamond Necklace. It was a diamond necklace, not pearls.

    So the part that was never answered: who bought the wife in this story the jewels? Was it a secret admirer?

  4. Yes, that one is the most famous story by Maupassant, The Necklace – a very tragic one, but with a lesson.

    Lauren, I had the same questions when I read this story. First I too thought of a secret admirer, then I thought that perhaps she was just really good with money and she spent them wisely, while managing to save to buy real jewelry. But then it said all that jewelry was worth hundreds of thousands franks, her husband could’ve not earned that much money, so that leaves us either with a secret admirer, or a secret inheritance?

  5. I don’t think she saved to buy real jewelry because she acted like it was fake. She seemed honest/innocent enough to really believe that. Don’t you think? It must have been a secret admirer… but then the whole innocence thing. I guess we’re really getting away from the message that Maupassant wanted us to get, though: treasure what you have while you have it!

    This was a sad story, but I did like and appreciate how real it was without being overly miserable to read.

  6. Most of Maupassant’s stories are sad, but I agree, this one is not overly miserable – the guy got what he deserved – a stern wife. I think Maupassant didn’t tell us the whole story because his message to us was not to question the past, don’t take things for granted and like you said “treasure what you have while you have it!”.

    Glad you enjoyed reading the story and we even had this nice discussion – feels like a talk at a book club :-)

  7. “because she acted like it was fake. She seemed honest/innocent enough to really believe that. ”
    That part is very enigmatic indeed…

    If she did have a secret admirer who lavished her with all that jewelry, why did he hide from her that the jewels were real? Is it because that had she known they’re real, she wouldn’t take them from him?
    all those little nuances, curious unanswered questions, all this makes the story even more attractive…. ;-)

  8. Ravi Verma

    I think, she was so much obsessed for jewellerys that she could not think of right or wrong. when her husband left going to theatre with her and asked her to go with some other woman, that was the time that some rich person came close to her and then started sending gifts against physical pleasures. thats why she lied to her husband that they were false jewels. moreover, she came back from theatre wet in rain that shows that no other woman was with her otherwise they could have arranged something. Moreover, she was managing the house quite comfortably at his small salary, which was not sufficient for a single person too. but then, thats what the writer wants us to learn, that don’t think much about past, one nights sleep and next morning everything should be history. carry on with life with full energy and enthusiam and positivity.

  9. wow wow wow…
    thanks a lot this short story is my assignment for 2m… 2 be honest i tot diz story s boring, but when i started reading the first paragrph oh no
    ! i cant help it but to continue, and put all my interest at this.

Selected Bits

PopularBits

RecommendedBits

FavouriteBits

PersonalBits

Hi, I'm Vivien. Thanks for visiting my Inspiration Bit. I often find myself scouring the internet looking for either answers to many questions I have or websites that inspire me, sites that I can learn from. On what topics you might ask — any topics that interest me, anything from web design to typography and art, from blogging to entrepreneurship, from programming to open source.
read more…
When I'm not blogging, I design web sites, teach, play with my daughter and try to balance family, work, friends and a somewhat active social life on