beautiful friend

Chapter 5

Duroy continued: "Yeah, everyone who is just starting to write will encounter similar problems. So, this time I come...to ask you a favor...Hope I can take a few minutes of your time and help me Conceive the general context of the article, and then tell me what style I should use and how to choose words and sentences. Without your guidance, I will definitely not be able to do the job."

Forestier had a cheerful smile on his face from beginning to end.He patted his old friend on the shoulder and said:
"Go to my wife, she will help you get everything done. In this respect, she is no worse than me. You know, she was trained by me. Although I would like to help you, I really don't have time this morning. .”

Duroy immediately showed embarrassment, hesitated for a while and said:
"But it's inconvenient to go up and find her at this time, isn't it?"

"It's okay. She has already woken up and is helping me sort out my notes in the study. Go find her."

Duroy was still reluctant to go upstairs:
"No...how can this work?"

Forestier grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around, pushed him to the top of the stairs, and said, "Come on! I tell you to go, and you go. Don't you want me to go up to the fourth floor again?" , introduce you to her, and then explain your situation?"

Duroy finally made up his mind: "Thank you, then I will go up. But I will tell her that you insisted that I go up to find her."

"Whatever you say. Don't worry, she won't eat you. But don't forget the appointment at three o'clock this afternoon."

"Okay, I won't forget."

After speaking, Forestier hurried away.Duroy began to walk upstairs step by step, thinking about how to speak, and not knowing how he would be received.

A servant in a blue apron with a broom opened the door for him.

Before Duroy could speak, he said, "Mr. has already gone out."

Duroy said: "Please ask Madame Forestier if she can see me. Please tell her that I met her husband in the street just now and he sent me."

Duroy stood at the door, waiting quietly.After a while, the servant just now came over, opened a door on the right, and said:
"Madame is waiting for you."

Madame Forestier was sitting in an office chair.The study room is not big, with a circle of mahogany bookshelves on the surrounding walls.On the bookshelves, there are all kinds of hardcover books neatly placed.These books have different colors, red, yellow, green, purple, blue and so on.Vibrant colors add a bit of interest to the monotonous study.

Madame Forestier, in a lace dressing gown, turned around smiling.When she reached out to Duroy, her white arms were exposed from the wide open sleeves.

"You came so early?" she asked.After a while, she added: "Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming you, I'm just asking."

Duroy muttered, "That's right, madam, I didn't want to come up either. It's just that I met your husband downstairs just now, and he insisted on me coming up. As for the reason why I came, I really can't tell."

Madame Forestier pointed to a chair and said, "Sit down and talk."

Her fingers kept turning the quill, and a half-written manuscript was spread out in front of her.Apparently, the young man's sudden visit had forced her to stop.

Madame Forestier sat leisurely at her desk, as if she was dealing with daily affairs in her own room.Her dressing gown gave off a soft fragrance, apparently from the bath just now.Smelling the fragrance, Duroy seemed to have seen the white, tender, warm and plump body under the soft cloth.

Seeing that Duroy was silent, Madame Forestier had to ask again:

"How? Tell me, what's the matter?"

Duroy stammered and said:

"Well...but...I'm really ashamed to say...in order to finish the article on Algeria that Mr. Walter asked...I worked late last night...today... I got up and continued writing... But I was not satisfied no matter how I wrote... In a hurry, I tore up all the drafts... I really have no experience in writing, so I ran to Forestier... I want him to do me a favor...just once."

Madame Forestier laughed and interrupted him.It can be seen that she is very happy, and even a little complacent:
"He asked you to come up to me? This is really interesting..."

"Yes, ma'am. He said you would be better than him if you would help... But I'm ashamed, and I don't want to bother you about such a trivial matter. Do you understand me?"

Madame Forestier rose and said:
"I'm very interested in your idea. Maybe it would be interesting to cooperate in this way. Come, sit here! You will write, because people at the newspaper will recognize my handwriting. We will finish this article together, and Gotta make it a sensation."

Duroy sat down, picked up his pen, spread out a piece of paper, and waited.

Madame Forestier stood by and watched Duroy get ready.Then she went to the fireplace and took out a cigarette and lit it.

"I have to smoke at work," she said. "Tell me, what are you going to write about?"

Duroy raised his head and looked at her blankly.

"I don't know. That's why I came here to see you."

Mrs. Forestier had no choice but to say: "That's right, I can organize the articles. But a clever woman can't cook without rice, you have to give me some information!"

Duroy was very embarrassed and stammered:
"I want to start writing from the day I set off."

Madame Forestier sat facing Duroy on the other side of the table.She looked him in the eyes and said, "Okay, let's start from the day you set off. Please note that you are speaking to me alone. You can speak slowly, but don't miss any details, so that I can start from the middle." Filter out what I need."

Seeing that Duroy still didn't know where to start, Madame Forestier kept asking him questions like a priest listening to confession in a church.The questions were so specific that they helped Duroy recall many forgotten details and people he met with whom he only met.

In this way Madame Forestier allowed Duroy to speak for about a quarter of an hour.Finally, she interrupted him abruptly, saying:
"Now we can start writing. First, let's say you're talking to a friend about what you've seen. In this format, you can say whatever you want, cover everything, and make the article as clear as possible. Lively and interesting. Well, here we go. Dear Henry, don't you really want to know about Algeria? I will grant you that wish. I have nothing to do in this shabby masonry house, The only thing I can do is send you a diary of my day-to-day, hour-by-hour life experience. Maybe my writing will be a little rough in places, but what the hell, as long as you don't show it to the ladies you know... ..."

At this point, she stopped and re-lit the cigarette that had been extinguished.The rustling of the quill in Duroy's hand on the paper also stopped abruptly.

"Let's go on," she said.

"Algeria is a French colony with a vast territory, surrounded by vast lands that are inaccessible, which is what we usually call desert, Sahara, Central Africa, etc... Algiers is the gateway to this magical continent, a white and charming city. City. But it's not easy to get there. The journey is hard and not everyone can take it. I'm a good trainer, you know, and I can tame the Colonel's fierce horses. But a good A horse trainer isn't necessarily a good sailor, and that's what happened to me. Remember that military doctor we called 'Doctor Togan'? We used to call There is a reason to see him. The man always wears a pair of red trousers, sits on a chair with his legs apart, his hands on his knees, his elbows facing outwards, bent into a bow shape, and his round and big eyes keep shaking He was biting his white beard in his mouth. Do you still remember the prescription he prescribed? It always read: "The soldier has a stomach ailment. Please give him emetic No. [-] according to the prescription. After twelve hours of rest, he will Curable.' This emetic is so holy that no one can refuse it. We have no choice but to take it. Besides, we can only enjoy the rare twelve hours if we drink Dr. Icac's emetic. Rest. Dear friends, in order to reach this mysterious land of Africa, I endured nearly forty hours of suffering, as if taking another undeniable emetic. And this time, it was the Atlantic Steamship Line who prescribed it. .”

Madame Forestier rubbed her hands, very satisfied with her idea.

She lit a cigarette, stood up and paced back and forth in the study.She was smoking and dictating.The smoke spouted from her pinched lips, rising straight up at first, and then slowly spreading out, forming gray lines that looked like transparent mist and cobweb-like water vapor.Mrs. Forestier opened her palm for a while, and gently waved away the lingering smoke; for a while, she stretched out her index finger and cut the shredded tobacco from it, and then watched intently at the almost invisible shredded tobacco that was cut in two. Dissipate slowly.

Duroy looked up and watched her every movement, her gestures and facial expressions in this careless game.

At the moment, Madame Forestier was imagining some episode of the journey.She invented several traveling companions out of thin air, and a fictional affair between Duroy and the wife of an army captain who was going to join her husband in Africa.

Then she sat down and asked about the topographical features of Algeria, since she knew nothing about them.But after 10 minutes, she knew almost the same as Duroy.She briefly introduces Algeria's political situation and local colonial policies so that readers can better understand the serious questions the author will raise in the following essays.

Madame Forestier then arranged for Duroy a wonderful trip to Oran, and many women of all kinds: Moorish, Jewish, and Spanish.

"That's the only way to attract readers," she said.

Finally, Madame Forestier began to relate Duroy's short stay in Saida.Our young corporal Georges Duroy, in the small town at the foot of the plateau, had a love story with a Spanish female worker of the paper mill in Ain Hajil City.They often meet at night in the desolate rocky hills, surrounded by the howling of jackals, hyenas, and Arabian dogs.

"If you want to know what will happen next, please pay attention to tomorrow's daily newspaper." Mrs. Forestier happily finished the last sentence.Then he stood up and said to Duroy: "Dear Mr. Duroy, this is how the article was written. Now, please sign it."

Duroy hesitated.

"Sign it!"

Duroy smiled and wrote his name under the manuscript paper: Georges Duroy.

Madame Forestier was still walking up and down the room with her cigarette in her mouth.Duroy stared at her intently, but couldn't find a word of gratitude.It was an honor and a thrill to be so close to her.He felt that everything around him was a part of her body. There was a special smell in the walls full of books, surrounding tables and chairs, furniture, and the air mixed with the smell of tobacco. It was so beautiful, sweet and exciting. revel.

Suddenly Madame Forestier asked:

"What do you think of my friend Madame de Marais?"

Duroy couldn't help being surprised by this sudden question: "Well... I think she... I think she is very charming."

"is it?"

"Yes."

He wanted to add: "But it's not as good as you." But he didn't dare to make mistakes.

Madame Forestier went on:
"You don't know, she is a different woman: smart, funny, lively and cheerful. She likes to follow her own way and be wild. Therefore, her husband doesn't like her. He can only see her faults, but does not understand her. advantage."

Hearing that Madame de Marelle was married, Duroy was dumbfounded.But after thinking about it, this is also a reasonable thing.

Duroy asked:
"Huh? She's married? What does her husband do?"

Madame Forestier raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders, with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Well, he's an inspector of the Northern Railway, and goes back to Paris for a week every month. His wife calls it 'compulsory service,' 'a week of hard labour,' or 'sacred week.' When you get to know her better, You will find that she is actually a very easy-going and considerate woman. In the past two days, you might as well take the time to visit her." Duroy did not want to leave at all, he felt as if he was at home, and hoped to stay like this forever Go down, but at this moment, the door of the study room was gently pushed open.A tall, unannounced man enters.When he saw a man inside the house, he stopped suddenly.For a moment, Madame Forestier was at a loss, and a blush rushed from her shoulders to her face.But she quickly regained her composure and said nonchalantly:

"Come in, my dear. Let me introduce you to Mr. Georges Duroy, Charlie's good friend and future reporter."

Then she said to Duroy in another tone:
"This is our best and closest friend, Count de Wardrake."

The two men bowed and looked into each other's eyes.Duroy got up to say goodbye.

No one kept him.He took the hand extended by Madame Forestier, murmured a few words of gratitude, and bowed again to the new visitor, but the other party looked serious and indifferent, completely like a gentleman of high society. .Duroy hurried out, as if he had just done something stupid.

Back on the street, he felt a little uneasy and depressed, and an inexplicable sadness filled his heart.He walked aimlessly, not understanding why he was suddenly so sad.The stern face of Count de Wardreck kept coming before his eyes.Although the man was a little old and gray-haired, he still maintained a cold and arrogant expression typical of rich people.

The face-to-face conversation with Mrs. Forestier was originally so harmonious and intimate, but it was unexpectedly interrupted by this unexpected guest, and Duroy felt extremely lost and melancholy.People often encounter this kind of situation. When they hear a bad word or see a bad thing, even if it is trivial, they will have similar emotions.

It seemed to Duroy that the gentleman was unhappy to see him.He really did not understand why Duroy had nothing to do until his appointment at three o'clock in the afternoon.Now, it's just after twelve o'clock.He still had six francs and fifty centimes left in his pocket.So he went into a restaurant called "Duval", had a casual lunch, and then continued to wander the streets.As soon as he heard three o'clock strike, he mounted the stairs of Le Vie Française.

Several trainees sit with folded arms on a bench; a messenger sits behind a small school desk sorting mail.Everything appears to be in order, leaving visitors in awe.They were all neatly dressed, dignified, and elegant, as if they were receptionists in a major newspaper.

Duroy asked: "Is Mr. Walter there?"

The messenger replied: "The manager is in a meeting, you can wait for him over there." He pointed to the crowded waiting room.

The people sitting in the waiting room, some wore badges on their chests, with solemn expressions and full of air; on irregular land and sea.Among the visitors, there were three other ladies.One of them was smiling, beautiful, and heavily made-up, looking like a prostitute.The one sitting next to him had a haggard and wrinkled face, but he was still well-groomed, just like those out-of-date actors who are old-fashioned but still want to dress themselves up like a girl.

The third lady, dressed in filial piety, sat silently in a corner, like a poor widow.Duroy guessed that she had come here to ask for alms.

More than 20 minutes passed, and no one was called in.

At this time, Duroy thought of a way.He walked up to the messenger and said, "Mr. Walter asked me to meet at three o'clock in the afternoon. Since he is not free, I would like to meet my friend Forestier first. I wonder if he is there?" He walked down a long corridor to a large office.Four men are writing around a large green table.

Forestier was standing in front of the fireplace, smoking a cigarette, playing a game of Bilbo.He was so good at the game that he could catch small boxwood balls thrown into the air with the tip of his stick every time.As he picked it up, he counted: "22, 23, 24, 25."

Duroy also stood aside to help count: "26." His friend raised his eyelids, but did not stop the regular movements of his hands.

"Ah, here you come! Yesterday I connected 57 times. Here, only Saint-Potain has more connections than me. Have you met the boss? The old man Nobel looks really funny when he plays this kind of game .He always opened his mouth like he was going to swallow the ball."

An editor looked up and said to Forestier:

"Well, Forestier, I hear there is a very fine ball for sale, made of wood from the Antilles. It used to belong to the Queen of Spain, it is said. They ask for sixty francs, no very expensive.

Forestier asked: "Where is the ball now?" At this time, he missed No.30 seven balls.So, he took the opportunity to put away the ball, opened a wooden cabinet, and put the ball back in place.Duroy saw more than twenty exquisitely crafted balls neatly placed in the cabinet, and each ball was numbered, like a collection of small ornaments.After placing the ball, Forestier asked again:
"Where is that ball now?"

The reporter replied:

"At one of the conductors at the Burlesque. If you want it, I'll bring it to you tomorrow." too much.

Then, turning to Duroy, he said:

(End of this chapter)