They treat their friends as women treat their pet
dogs.
It is the dear little Toutou whom they hug, feed with
sugar, allow to sleep on the pillow, but whom they
would be just as likely to throw out of a window in
a moment of impatience, whom they turn round like a
sling, holding it by the tail, squeeze in their arms
till they almost strangle it, and plunge, without
any reason, in a pail of cold water.
Then, what a strange thing it is when one of these
beings falls in love with a real girl! He beats
her, she scratches him, they execrate each other,
cannot bear the sight of each other and yet cannot
part, linked together by no one knows what mysterious
psychic bonds. She deceives him, he knows it,
sobs and forgives her. He despises and adores
her without seeing that she would be justified in
despising him. They are both atrociously unhappy
and yet cannot separate. They cast invectives,
reproaches and abominable accusations at each other
from morning till night, and when they have reached
the climax and are vibrating with rage and hatred,
they fall into each other’s arms and kiss each
other ardently.
The girl-man is brave and a coward at the same time.
He has, more than another, the exalted sentiment of
honor, but is lacking in the sense of simple honesty,
and, circumstances favoring him, would defalcate and
commit infamies which do not trouble his conscience,
for he obeys without questioning the oscillations
of his ideas, which are always impulsive.
To him it seems permissible and almost right to cheat
a haberdasher. He considers it honorable not
to pay his debts, unless they are gambling debts—that
is, somewhat shady. He dupes people whenever the
laws of society admit of his doing so. When he
is short of money he borrows in all ways, not always
being scrupulous as to tricking the lenders, but he
would, with sincere indignation, run his sword through
anyone who should suspect him of only lacking in politeness.
The humid gray sky seemed to weigh down on the vast
brown plain. The odor of autumn, the sad odor
of bare, moist lands, of fallen leaves, of dead grass
made the stagnant evening air more thick and heavy.
The peasants were still at work, scattered through
the fields, waiting for the stroke of the Angelus
to call them back to the farmhouses, whose thatched
roofs were visible here and there through the branches
of the leafless trees which protected the apple-gardens
against the wind.
At the side of the road, on a heap of clothes, a very
small boy seated with his legs apart was playing with
a potato, which he now and then let fall on his dress,
whilst five women were bending down planting slips
of colza in the adjoining plain. With a slow,
continuous movement, all along the mounds of earth
which the plough had just turned up, they drove in
sharp wooden stakes and in the hole thus formed placed
the plant, already a little withered, which sank on
one side; then they patted down the earth and went
on with their work.
