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Unit 2: The Necklace by Guy de Maupassant

peasant who did her humble housework aroused in her despairing regrets and bewildering Notes
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. Everyone 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.”

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