The Necklace: Guy de Maupassant

The Necklace
by Guy de Maupassant
The Necklace (1884) is a famous short story and morality tale that is

widely read in classrooms throughout the world.
The girl was one of those pretty and charming young creatures who sometimes are born, as if by a
slip of fate, into a family of clerks. She had no dowry, no expectations, no way of being known,
understood, loved, married by any rich and distinguished man; so she let herself be married to a little
clerk of the Ministry of Public Instruction.
She dressed plainly because she could not dress well, but she was unhappy as if she had really fallen
from a higher station; since with women there is neither caste nor rank, for beauty, grace and charm
take the place of family and birth. Natural ingenuity, instinct for what is elegant, a supple mind are
their sole hierarchy, and often make of women of the people the equals of the very greatest ladies.
Mathilde suffered ceaselessly, feeling herself born to enjoy all delicacies and all luxuries. She was
distressed at the poverty of her dwelling, at the bareness of the walls, at the shabby chairs, the
ugliness of the curtains. All those things, of which another woman of her rank would never even have
been conscious, tortured her and made her angry. The sight of the little Breton peasant who did her
humble housework aroused in her despairing regrets and bewildering dreams. She thought of silent
antechambers hung with Oriental tapestry, illumined by tall bronze candelabra, and of two great
footmen in knee breeches who sleep in the big armchairs, made drowsy by the oppressive heat of
the stove. She thought of long reception halls hung with ancient silk, of the dainty cabinets
containing priceless curiosities and of the little coquettish perfumed reception rooms made for
chatting at five o'clock with intimate friends, with men famous and sought after, whom all women
envy and whose attention they all desire.
When she sat down to dinner, before the round table covered with a tablecloth in use
three days, opposite her husband, who uncovered the soup tureen and declared with a
delighted air, "Ah, the good soup! I don't know anything better than that," she thought
of dainty dinners, of shining silverware, of tapestry that peopled the walls with ancient
personages and with strange birds flying in the midst of a fairy forest; and she thought
of delicious dishes served on marvellous plates and of the whispered gallantries to
which you listen with a sphinxlike smile while you are eating the pink meat of a trout or
the wings of a quail.
She had no gowns, no jewels, nothing. And she loved nothing but that. She felt made for
that. She would have liked so much to please, to be envied, to be charming, to be
sought after.
She had a friend, a former schoolmate at the convent, who was rich, and whom she did
not like to go to see any more because she felt so sad when she came home.
But one evening her husband reached home with a triumphant air and holding a large envelope in his hand.
"There," said he, "there is something for you."
She tore the paper quickly and drew out a printed card which bore these words:
The Minister of Public Instruction and Madame Georges Ramponneau request the honor of M. and Madame Loisel's company at the palace of the Ministry on Monday evening,
January 18th.
Instead of being delighted, as her husband had hoped, she threw the invitation on the table crossly, muttering:
"What do you wish me to do with that?"
"Why, my dear, I thought you would be glad. You never go out, and this is such a fine opportunity. I had great trouble to get it. Every one wants to go; it is very select, and they are
not giving many invitations to clerks. The whole official world will be there."
She looked at him with an irritated glance and said impatiently:
"And what do you wish me to put on my back?"
He had not thought of that. He stammered:
"Why, the gown you go to the theatre in. It looks very well to me."
He stopped, distracted, seeing that his wife was weeping. Two great tears ran slowly from the corners of her eyes toward the corners of her mouth.
"What's the matter? What's the matter?" he answered.
By a violent effort she conquered her grief and replied in a calm voice, while she wiped her wet cheeks:
"Nothing. Only I have no gown, and, therefore, I can't go to this ball. Give your card to some colleague whose wife is better equipped than I am."
He was in despair. He resumed:
"Come, let us see, Mathilde. How much would it cost, a suitable gown, which you could use on other occasions--something very simple?"
She reflected several seconds, making her calculations and wondering also what sum she could ask without drawing on herself an immediate refusal and a frightened exclamation
from the economical clerk.
Finally she replied hesitating:
"I don't know exactly, but I think I could manage it with four hundred
francs."
He grew a little pale, because he was laying aside just that amount to buy
a gun and treat himself to a little shooting next summer on the plain of
Nanterre, with several friends who went to shoot larks there of a Sunday.
But he said:
"Very well. I will give you four hundred francs. And try to have a pretty
gown."
The day of the ball drew near and Madame Loisel seemed sad, uneasy,
anxious. Her frock was ready, however. Her husband said to her one
evening:
"What is the matter? Come, you have seemed very queer these last three days."
And she answered:
"It annoys me not to have a single piece of jewelry, not a single ornament, nothing to put on. I shall look poverty-stricken. I
would almost rather not go at all."
"You might wear natural flowers," said her husband. "They're very stylish at this time of year. For ten francs you can get two or
three magnificent roses."
She was not convinced.
"No; there's nothing more humiliating than to look poor among other women who are rich."
"How stupid you are!" her husband cried. "Go look up your friend, Madame Forestier, and ask her to lend you some jewels.
You're intimate enough with her to do that."
She uttered a cry of joy:
"True! I never thought of it."
The next day she went to her friend and told her of her distress.
Madame Forestier went to a wardrobe with a mirror, took out a large jewel box, brought it back, opened it and said to Madame
Loisel:
"Choose, my dear."
She saw first some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a Venetian gold cross set with precious
stones, of admirable workmanship. She tried on the ornaments before the mirror, hesitated and
could not make up her mind to part with them, to give them back. She kept asking:
"Haven't you any more?"
"Why, yes. Look further; I don't know what you like."
Suddenly she discovered, in a black satin box, a superb diamond necklace, and her heart
throbbed with an immoderate desire. Her hands trembled as she took it. She fastened it round
her throat, outside her high-necked waist, and was lost in ecstasy at her reflection in the mirror.
Then she asked, hesitating, filled with anxious doubt:
"Will you lend me this, only this?"
"Why, yes, certainly."
She threw her arms round her friend's neck, kissed her passionately, then fled with her treasure.
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The Necklace

The Necklace (1884) is a famous short story and morality tale that is

"There," said he, "there is something for you."

"What do you wish me to do with that?"

She looked at him with an irritated glance and said impatiently:

"And what do you wish me to put on my back?"

He had not thought of that. He stammered:

"What's the matter? What's the matter?" he answered.

He was in despair. He resumed:

What have you observed with the story?

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