{"id":1710,"date":"2025-01-23T01:40:32","date_gmt":"2025-01-23T01:40:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=1710"},"modified":"2025-01-23T01:40:32","modified_gmt":"2025-01-23T01:40:32","slug":"the-wrong-house-by-guy-de-maupassant","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=1710","title":{"rendered":"The Wrong House by Guy de Maupassant"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>The Wrong House by <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/15-best-short-story-authors\">Guy de Maupassant<\/a> centers on a case of mistaken identity and the unsettling consequences that follow.<\/p>\n<p><em>This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you.<\/em><\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">The Wrong House by Guy de Maupassant<\/h2>\n<div class=\"epyt-video-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"__youtube_prefs__ epyt-facade no-lazyload\"><button class=\"epyt-facade-play\"><\/button><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">The Wrong House by Guy de Maupassant<\/h3>\n<p>Quartermaster Varajou had obtained a week\u2019s leave to go and visit his sister, Madame Padoie. Varajou, who was in garrison at Rennes and was leading a pretty gay life, finding himself high and dry, wrote to his sister saying that he would devote a week to her. It was not that he cared particularly for Mme. Padoie, a little moralist, a devotee, and always cross; but he needed money, needed it very badly, and he remembered that, of all his relations, the Padoies were the only ones whom he had never approached on the subject.<\/p>\n<p>Pere Varajou, formerly a horticulturist at Angers, but now retired from business, had closed his purse strings to his scapegrace son and had hardly seen him for two years. His daughter had married Padoie, a former treasury clerk, who had just been appointed tax collector at Vannes.<\/p>\n<p>Varajou, on leaving the train, had some one direct him to the house of his brother-in-law, whom he found in his office arguing with the Breton peasants of the neighborhood. Padoie rose from his seat, held out his hand across the table littered with papers, murmured, \u201cTake a chair. I will be at liberty in a moment,\u201d sat down again and resumed his discussion.<\/p>\n<p>The peasants did not understand his explanations, the collector did not understand their line of argument. He spoke French, they spoke Breton, and the clerk who acted as interpreter appeared not to understand either.<\/p>\n<p>It lasted a long time, a very long time. Varajou looked at his brother-in-law and thought: \u201cWhat a fool!\u201d Padoie must have been almost fifty. He was tall, thin, bony, slow, hairy, with heavy arched eyebrows. He wore a velvet skull cap with a gold cord vandyke design round it. His look was gentle, like his actions. His speech, his gestures, his thoughts, all were soft. Varajou said to himself, \u201cWhat a fool!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He, himself, was one of those noisy roysterers for whom the greatest pleasures in life are the cafe and abandoned women. He understood nothing outside of these conditions of existence.<\/p>\n<p>A boisterous braggart, filled with contempt for the rest of the world, he despised the entire universe from the height of his ignorance. When he said: \u201cNom d\u2019un chien, what a spree!\u201d he expressed the highest degree of admiration of which his mind was capable.<\/p>\n<p>Having finally got rid of his peasants, Padoie inquired:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHow are you?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPretty well, as you see. And how are you?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cQuite well, thank you. It is very kind of you to have thought of coming to see us.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, I have been thinking of it for some time; but, you know, in the military profession one has not much freedom.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, I know, I know. All the same, it is very kind of you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd Josephine, is she well?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, yes, thank you; you will see her presently.\u201d \u201cWhere is she?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cShe is making some calls. We have a great many friends here; it is a very nice town.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI thought so.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The door opened and Mme. Padoie appeared. She went over to her brother without any eagerness, held her cheek for him to kiss, and asked:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHave you been here long?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, hardly half an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, I thought the train would be late. Will you come into the parlor?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>They went into the adjoining room, leaving Padoie to his accounts and his taxpayers. As soon as they were alone, she said:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI have heard nice things about you!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat have you heard?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt seems that you are behaving like a blackguard, getting drunk and contracting debts.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He appeared very much astonished.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI! never in the world!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, do not deny it, I know it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He attempted to defend himself, but she gave him such a lecture that he could say nothing more.<\/p>\n<p>She then resumed:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe dine at six o\u2019clock, and you can amuse yourself until then. I cannot entertain you, as I have so many things to do.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>When he was alone he hesitated as to whether he should sleep or take a walk. He looked first at the door leading to his room and then at the hall door, and decided to go out. He sauntered slowly through the quiet Breton town, so sleepy, so calm, so dead, on the shores of its inland bay that is called \u201cle Morbihan.\u201d He looked at the little gray houses, the occasional pedestrians, the empty stores, and he murmured:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cVannes is certainly not gay, not lively. It was a sad idea, my coming here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He reached the harbor, the desolate harbor, walked back along a lonely, deserted boulevard, and got home before five o\u2019clock. Then he threw himself on his bed to sleep till dinner time. The maid woke him, knocking at the door.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDinner is ready, sir:\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He went downstairs. In the damp dining-room with the paper peeling from the walls near the floor, he saw a soup tureen on a round table without any table cloth, on which were also three melancholy soup-plates.<\/p>\n<p>M. and Mme. Padoie entered the room at the same time as Varajou. They all sat down to table, and the husband and wife crossed themselves over the pit of their stomachs, after which Padoie helped the soup, a meat soup. It was the day for pot-roast.<\/p>\n<p>After the soup, they had the beef, which was done to rags, melted, greasy, like pap. The officer ate slowly, with disgust, weariness and rage.<\/p>\n<p>Mme. Padoie said to her husband:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAre you going to the judge\u2019s house this evening?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, dear.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDo not stay late. You always get so tired when you go out. You are not made for society, with your poor health.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She then talked about society in Vannes, of the excellent social circle in which the Padoies moved, thanks to their religious sentiments.<\/p>\n<p>A puree of potatoes and a dish of pork were next served, in honor of the guest. Then some cheese, and that was all. No coffee.<\/p>\n<p>When Varajou saw that he would have to spend the evening tete-a-tete with his sister, endure her reproaches, listen to her sermons, without even a glass of liqueur to help him to swallow these remonstrances, he felt that he could not stand the torture, and declared that he was obliged to go to the police station to have something attended to regarding his leave of absence. And he made his escape at seven o\u2019clock.<\/p>\n<p>He had scarcely reached the street before he gave himself a shake like a dog coming out of the water. He muttered:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHeavens, heavens, heavens, what a galley slave\u2019s life!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And he set out to look for a cafe, the best in the town. He found it on a public square, behind two gas lamps. Inside the cafe, five or six men, semi-gentlemen, and not noisy, were drinking and chatting quietly, leaning their elbows on the small tables, while two billiard players walked round the green baize, where the balls were hitting each other as they rolled.<\/p>\n<p>One heard them counting:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cEighteen-nineteen. No luck. Oh, that\u2019s a good stroke! Well played! Eleven. You should have played on the red. Twenty. Froze! Froze! Twelve. Ha! Wasn\u2019t I right?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Varajou ordered:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cA demi-tasse and a small decanter of brandy, the best.\u201d Then he sat down and waited for it.<\/p>\n<p>He was accustomed to spending his evenings off duty with his companions, amid noise and the smoke of pipes. This silence, this quiet, exasperated him. He began to drink; first the coffee, then the brandy, and asked for another decanter. He now wanted to laugh, to shout, to sing, to fight some one. He said to himself:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGee, I am half full. I must go and have a good time.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And he thought he would go and look for some girls to amuse him. He called the waiter:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHey, waiter.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTell me, where does one amuse oneself here?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The man looked stupid, and replied:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI do not know, sir. Here, I suppose!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHow do you mean here? What do you call amusing oneself, yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI do not know, sir, drinking good beer or good wine.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAh, go away, dummy, how about the girls?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe girls, ah! ah!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, the girls, where can one find any here?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGirls?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy, yes, girls!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The boy approached and lowering his voice, said: \u201cYou want to know where they live?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy, yes, the devil!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou take the second street to the left and then the first to the right. It is number fifteen.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThank you, old man. There is something for you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThank you, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And Varajou went out of the cafe, repeating, \u201cSecond to the left, first to the right, number 15.\u201d But at the end of a few seconds he thought, \u201csecond to the left yes. But on leaving the cafe must I walk to the right or the left? Bah, it cannot be helped, we shall see.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And he walked on, turned down the second street to the left, then the first to the right and looked for number 15. It was a nice looking house, and one could see behind the closed blinds that the windows were lighted up on the first floor. The hall door was left partly open, and a lamp was burning in the vestibule. The non-commissioned officer thought to himself:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThis looks all right.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He went in and, as no one appeared, he called out:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHallo there, hallo!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>A little maid appeared and looked astonished at seeing a soldier. He said:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGood-morning, my child. Are the ladies upstairs?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIn the parlor?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMay I go up?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe door opposite the stairs?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He ascended the stairs, opened a door and saw sitting in a room well lighted up by two lamps, a chandelier, and two candelabras with candles in them, four ladies in evening dress, apparently expecting some one.<\/p>\n<p>Three of them, the younger ones, remained seated, with rather a formal air, on some crimson velvet chairs; while the fourth, who was about forty-five, was arranging some flowers in a vase. She was very stout, and wore a green silk dress with low neck and short sleeves, allowing her red neck, covered with powder, to escape as a huge flower might from its corolla.<\/p>\n<p>The officer saluted them, saying:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGood-day, ladies.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The older woman turned round, appeared surprised, but bowed.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGood-morning, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He sat down. But seeing that they did not welcome him eagerly, he thought that possibly only commissioned officers were admitted to the house, and this made him uneasy. But he said:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBah, if one comes in, we can soon tell.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He then remarked:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAre you all well?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The large lady, no doubt the mistress of the house, replied:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cVery well, thank you!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He could think of nothing else to say, and they were all silent. But at last, being ashamed of his bashfulness, and with an awkward laugh, he said:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDo not people have any amusement in this country? I will pay for a bottle of wine.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He had not finished his sentence when the door opened, and in walked Padoie dressed in a black suit.<\/p>\n<p>Varajou gave a shout of joy, and rising from his seat, he rushed at his brother-in-law, put his arms round him and waltzed him round the room, shouting:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHere is Padoie! Here is Padoie! Here is Padoie!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Then letting go of the tax collector he exclaimed as he looked him in the face:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, oh, oh, you scamp, you scamp! You are out for a good time, too. Oh, you scamp! And my sister! Are you tired of her, say?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>As he thought of all that he might gain through this unexpected situation, the forced loan, the inevitable blackmail, he flung himself on the lounge and laughed so heartily that the piece of furniture creaked all over.<\/p>\n<p>The three young ladies, rising simultaneously, made their escape, while the older woman retreated to the door looking as though she were about to faint.<\/p>\n<p>And then two gentlemen appeared in evening dress, and wearing the ribbon of an order. Padoie rushed up to them.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, judge\u2014he is crazy, he is crazy. He was sent to us as a convalescent. You can see that he is crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Varajou was sitting up now, and not being able to understand it all, he guessed that he had committed some monstrous folly. Then he rose, and turning to his brother-in-law, said:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat house is this?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>But Padoie, becoming suddenly furious, stammered out:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat house\u2014what\u2014what house is this? Wretch\u2014scoundrel\u2014villain\u2014what house, indeed? The house of the judge\u2014of the judge of the Supreme Court\u2014of the Supreme Court\u2014of the Supreme Court\u2014Oh, oh\u2014rascal! \u2014rascal!\u2014rascal!\u201d<\/p>\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">Best Guy De Maupassant Books to Read<\/h2>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/41WKgCu\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3RYi4dR\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/4eVLHqZ\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/47Ap06A\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><br \/>\nClick on the image to buy a copy<\/p>\n<p>If you enjoyed The Wrong House by Guy De Maupassant, you can also read <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/fear-by-guy-de-maupassant\">Fear by Guy de Maupassant<\/a> here.<\/p>\n<p>Narrated by Peter Thomlinson, courtesy of Librivox<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Wrong House by Guy de Maupassant centers on a case of mistaken identity and the unsettling consequences that follow. This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you. The Wrong House by Guy de Maupassant The Wrong House by Guy de Maupassant Quartermaster Varajou had obtained [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":0,"featured_media":1711,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1710","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-bookreviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1710"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1710"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1710\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1711"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1710"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1710"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1710"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}