"You could wear flowers, " he said, "They are very fashionable at this time of year. I would almost rather not go to the party." She replied: "I'm upset that I have no jewels, not a single stone to wear. "What's the matter? You've been acting strange these last three days." The day of the party drew near, and Madame Loisel seemed sad, restless, anxious. But try and get a really beautiful dress." "Very well, I can give you four hundred francs. He turned a little pale, because he had been saving that exact amount to buy a gun and treat himself to a hunting trip the following summer, in the country near Nanterre, with a few friends who went lark-shooting there on Sundays. "I don't know exactly, but I think I could do it with four hundred francs." She thought for a moment, computing the cost, and also wondering what amount she could ask for without an immediate refusal and an alarmed exclamation from the thrifty clerk. How much would a suitable dress cost, one which you could use again on other occasions, something very simple?" Give your invitation to a friend whose wife has better clothes than I do." Only I have no dress and so I can't go to this party. With great effort she overcame her grief and replied in a calm voice, as she wiped her wet cheeks:
Two large tears ran slowly from the corners of her eyes towards the corners of her mouth. He stopped, stunned, distressed to see his wife crying. "Why, the dress you go to the theatre in. "And what do you expect me to wear if I go?" She stared at him angrily, and said, impatiently: Every one wants to go it is very exclusive, and they're not giving many invitations to clerks. You never go out, and it will be such a lovely occasion! I had awful trouble getting it. "But, my dear, I thought you would be pleased. Instead of being delighted, as her husband had hoped, she threw the invitation on the table resentfully, and muttered: Loisel's company at the Ministry, on the evening of Monday January 18th." Georges Rampouneau request the pleasure of M. She tore open the paper and drew out a card, on which was printed the words: "Look," he said, "here's something for you." One evening her husband came home with an air of triumph, holding a large envelope in his hand. For whole days afterwards she would weep with sorrow, regret, despair and misery. She had a rich friend, a former schoolmate at the convent, whom she no longer wanted to visit because she suffered so much when she came home. She wanted so much to charm, to be envied, to be desired and sought after. She had no dresses, no jewels, nothing and these were the only things she loved. When she sat down to dinner at a round table covered with a three-day-old cloth opposite her husband who, lifting the lid off the soup, shouted excitedly, "Ah! Beef stew! What could be better," she dreamed of fine dinners, of shining silverware, of tapestries which peopled the walls with figures from another time and strange birds in fairy forests she dreamed of delicious dishes served on wonderful plates, of whispered gallantries listened to with an inscrutable smile as one ate the pink flesh of a trout or the wings of a quail. She dreamed of vast living rooms furnished in rare old silks, elegant furniture loaded with priceless ornaments, and inviting smaller rooms, perfumed, made for afternoon chats with close friends - famous, sought after men, who all women envy and desire. She dreamed of silent antechambers hung with Oriental tapestries, lit from above by torches in bronze holders, while two tall footmen in knee-length breeches napped in huge armchairs, sleepy from the stove's oppressive warmth.
The sight of the little Brenton girl who did her housework filled her with terrible regrets and hopeless fantasies. All these things that another woman of her class would not even have noticed, tormented her and made her resentful. She suffered because of the poorness of her house as she looked at the dirty walls, the worn-out chairs and the ugly curtains. She suffered endlessly, feeling she was entitled to all the delicacies and luxuries of life. Natural delicacy, instinctive elegance and a quick wit determine their place in society, and make the daughters of commoners the equals of the very finest ladies. Women don't belong to a caste or class their beauty, grace, and natural charm take the place of birth and family. She dressed plainly because she had never been able to afford anything better, but she was as unhappy as if she had once been wealthy. She had no dowry, no expectations, no means of becoming known, understood, loved or wedded by a man of wealth and distinction and so she let herself be married to a minor official at the Ministry of Education. She was one of those pretty and charming girls born, as if by an error of fate, into a family of clerks.
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