Maupassant's short story: Mademoiselle Cocotte

As we were about to come out of the madhouse, I suddenly saw a tall, thin man in a corner of the courtyard, stubbornly summoning a fantasy dog. He cried out in a kind, gentle voice: "Cocote, my little Cocote, come here, Cocote, come here, my beauty." "On the other hand, he patted his thighs like people often do to attract the attention of animals. I couldn't help but ask the doctor, "What's wrong with that man?" and he replied, "Ah! He was a coachman, named François, who drowned his dog and went mad from it. ”

I begged again and again, "Tell me his story." Sometimes the simplest and most ordinary things touch my heart the most. ”

Here's what happened to the man, all from his companion, a groom.

On the outskirts of Paris lived a well-to-do middle-class family. They lived in a villa in the middle of a large garden by the Seine. The coachman of that house was this François, a somewhat clumsy lad, kind-hearted, honest, and easily deceived.

One night, on his way back to his master's house, a dog followed him. He didn't pay attention at first, but the beast followed, and he looked back to see if he knew the dog. No, he'd never seen it.

It was a scarily thin dog with long breasts. It ran slowly behind him, its tail between its legs, its ears drooping, and it looked like a pitiful hungry dog. When he stops, it stops, and when he goes, it goes.

He wanted to get the skinny brute out of the way, and yelled, "Get out, get out of here!" As soon as the coachman took a step, it followed again.

He pretended to pick up stones. The animal shook its flabby breasts violently and fled a little farther away, but as soon as he turned around, it caught up again.

François, the coachman, relented and beckoned him to come over. The squirmed over, her back arched, ribs arching her skin. He stroked the protruding bones, and when he saw how pitiful it was, he felt compassion. "Come on, then!" he said. Sensing that it had been taken in, it immediately wagged its tail and ran ahead of its new owner, no longer following its new owner.

He laid it on the haystack of the stable, and ran to the kitchen to get bread, and when it had eaten its fill, it curled up in a ball and fell asleep.

The next day the coachman told the owners that they allowed him to keep it. This is a good dog, affectionate and faithful, intelligent and gentle.

But it wasn't long before it was discovered that it had a terrible drawback. It burns with the flame of love all year round. In a short time he got to know all the male dogs in the area, and they circled around him day and night. He treated them with the same kind of hospitality as the prostitutes, and seemed to get along with every male dog very well. Behind it is always a team of various types of dogs, some as small as a fist and some as big as a donkey. It led them on an endless roaming of the road, and when it stopped to rest in the grass, they circled around it, sticking out their tongues and looking at it.

The locals regard it as a monster, and no one has ever seen such a dog. Even the veterinarian couldn't figure out what was going on.

In the evening he returned to the stable, and the male dogs laid siege to the villa. They came in through the hedges around the garden, and destroyed the flower beds, trampled the flowers and trees, and dug holes into the flower beds, much to the annoyance of the groom. They kept barking around their girlfriend's stable all night, and they couldn't get them to get away.

During the day they even jump into the house. It was an invasion, a scourge, a disaster. On the stairs, and even in the bedrooms, the owners could at any time encounter yellow-haired puppies, hunting dogs, mastiffs, homeless dirty wild dogs, and huge Newfoundland dogs that scare children.

There were also some dogs that no one knew within a radius of ten fata, and no one knew where they came from or how they survived, and then disappeared.

François, however, was very fond of Cocotte. [2] He named it Cocot with no ill intent, though it deserved it. He often said, "This brute is almost like a man, except that he can't speak." ”

He made it a beautiful red leather collar, and hung a small bronze plaque with the following words inscribed: "Mademoiselle Cocotte, owned by François the coachman." ”

It gets bloated. It used to be pitifully thin, but now it is surprisingly fat, and its big swaying breasts still hang under its swollen belly. After suddenly gaining weight, it had a hard time walking, its legs were spread like that of an overly obese person, its mouth was open, it was panting, and it was exhausted after just two steps.

In addition, it is surprisingly prolific, almost just young, and has a large belly, giving birth to four litters a year, and it has a wide variety of species. François picked out one and gave it "milk", and the others were packed with the aprons he wore for his stable work, and threw them into the river without pity.

However, after a while, the cook also complained with the gardener. She had even found dogs under the hearth, in the cupboards, and in the coals, and they had stolen from whatever they encountered.

The master couldn't take it anymore and told François to throw Cocote away. François was nerve-wracking and wanted to find a place to give it away. But no one would ask for it. Determined to throw it away, he gave it to a cart driver to take to the fields around Jeanville-Le Pen on the other side of Paris and throw it away.

That evening, however, Cocot returned.

It's time to get a big idea. He spent five francs and gave it to one of the conductors of the train to Le Havre, asking him to get there and let it go.

Three days later, he returned to the stable, tired, emaciated, and peeled, and could no longer support it.

The master was moved by compassion and no longer insisted.

But the male dogs soon returned, and more and more fiercely. One night at a feast, a piece of roasted fat hen was actually taken away by a dog under the nose of the cook, who was a big guard dog, and the cook dared to compete with it.

This time the owner was really annoyed. He called François and said angrily, "If you don't throw this beast into the river before dawn to-morrow, I'll drive you out of the gate." Do you hear that?"

The coachman was frightened, and he went upstairs to his room to pack his luggage, preferring to throw away the errand. Then he thought about it: as long as he took this nasty beast with him, he couldn't go anywhere. He thought that he was now employed by a very good man, earning a lot and eating well. He said to himself: it's not worth giving up all this for the sake of a dog. He was struck by his vital interests, and finally he made up his mind to get rid of Cocot as soon as it was dawn.

Despite this, he slept badly. He got up at dawn, took a strong rope, and went to find the. It slowly stood up, shook its body, stretched its waist, and came to welcome its master.

He lost his courage at once, and began to hug it affectionately, caressing its long ears, kissing its nose, and calling it as much as he could, with all the affectionate names he knew.

At this time, the nearby clock struck six o'clock. There can be no further hesitation. He opened the door and said, "Come." The beast wagged its tail, knowing that it was going to take it out.

They came to the steep bank of the river, and he chose a place where the water seemed deeper. He tied one end of the rope to the beautiful leather collar, and picked up a large stone and tied it to the other end. Then he picked up Cocote and kissed her feverishly as if he were a loved one who was about to leave. He hugged it tightly, shook it, and cried out, "My beautiful Cocote!, my little Cocote!" and it was at his mercy, humming happily.

He tried to throw it again and again, but he couldn't be ruthless.

Still, he made up his mind and threw it as far as he could with all his strength. It tried to paddle as it normally bathed it, but its head was stoned and sank down one after another, and it cast a frightened gaze at its master, a very human gaze, while struggling like a drowning man. Then the front half of the body sank completely, only the hind legs were still kicking desperately outside the water, and finally even the hind legs were gone.

The river bubbled as if it were boiling, and it took five minutes. François was stunned, terrified, and his heart pounded, as if he had seen Cocote twitch in the mud. The simple-minded redneck said to himself, "What does this beast think of me at this moment?"

He was almost demented, he had been sick for a month, he dreamed of his dog every night and felt it licking his hand, he heard it barking. Had to call in a doctor. At the end of June, the masters took him to Biésar, near Rouen, where they had an estate.

When he got there, he was still on the Seine. He began to go down to the river again to bathe. He went down with the groom every morning, and often swam across the river.

One day, while they were frolicking in the water, François suddenly shouted to his partner:

"Look at that thing floating over, I'll treat you to a piece of fried ribs. ”

Floating down the river was the corpse of a large animal with all its hair lost and swollen, with its feet facing the sky.

François swam over with a few strokes, and he continued to joke:

"Hell, it's not new. Hey, it's big! And it's not skinny. ”

He circled around the great rotting corpse from a distance.

Then he suddenly fell silent, and looked at it attentively for a moment, and then he swam up to it, as if to touch it. He looked intently at its collar, then reached out and grabbed the neck, turned the body in a different direction, and dragged it in front of him, only to see a green bronze plaque hanging from the faded leather collar, which read: "Mademoiselle Cocotte, owned by François the coachman." ”

The died, and found its owner sixty miles away from home.

He let out a terrible cry and swam desperately towards the river, howling as he went. As soon as he came ashore, he was naked, running lifeless in the fields. He's crazy!

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[1] This article was first published in the March 20, 1883 issue of the newspaper Gilles Blas, written under the name "Moverines", and in 1884 included in the short story collection Moonlight.

[2] "Cocotte" in French, meaning "hen", also means "frivolous woman" and "prostitute".