What do you think?
Rate this book
Miss Harriet et autres nouvelles
Pleine de drôlerie, cette nouvelle est pourtant l'une des plus poignantes de Maupassant. Le narrateur, objet involontaire d'une passion pathétique, se prend pour la malheureuse Miss Harriet d'une tendresse authentique. Maupassant donne ici la mesure de son talent à décrire les paysages – on l'a qualifié d’« écrivain impressionniste ». Dans ce texte taillé au cordeau, les sentiments qui se tissent entre les personnages sont décrits avec une grande délicatesse, empreinte d'une profonde humanité.
288 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1951
17 people are currently reading
188 people want to read
About the author
Guy de Maupassant
7,477 books3,041 followersHenri René Albert Guy de Maupassant was a popular 19th-century French writer. He is one of the fathers of the modern short story. A protege of Flaubert, Maupassant's short stories are characterized by their economy of style and their efficient effortless dénouement. He also wrote six short novels. A number of his stories often denote the futility of war and the innocent civilians who get crushed in it - many are set during the Franco-Prussian War of the 1870s.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 37 reviews
September 5, 2020
A story that makes us dream at one point, we like this gentle rhythm where a naturalistic and romantic atmosphere blends, we read with pleasure this seduction which operates majestically from the painting .How beautiful this time when you could seduce just with a brush and a canvas ... then a little quack intervenes as always with love stories, we say to ourselves there will certainly be an excuse somewhere and everything will be put back in order. .ho no, it's a tragedy that surprises us, the death of Miss Hariett ... It's too hard ...
Whether in the joys of love or in pain, we find always enjoy reading Maupassant !
Whether in the joys of love or in pain, we find always enjoy reading Maupassant !
November 27, 2021
"A heart that beats at your approach, an eye that weeps when you go away are things so rare, so sweet, so precious that they must never be despised."
March 7, 2018
The Green Border ( shown here ) certainly DATED this edition of some of Guy de Maupassant's Short Stories.
It was at a Second-Hand bookshop in ever busy Newtown,
an inner suburb of Sydney..."Elizabeth's".
What made it a Special Find for Me was not its age
- one of the introductory pages informed "This translation first published 1951"
which made it just a few years younger than myself,
but that it looked and felt as if it had just been "born" that very morning.
The older volume titled "Boule De Suif and Other Stories" was even MORE pristine !!!
(Inside I read "Published in Penguin Books 1946 (one year before I was created!!)
Reprinted 1949, 1951, 1952, 1954, 1956, 1961 ).
The third volume announced : This translation first published 1955. Reprinted 1957.
Its Title was "The Mountain Inn and Other Stories"....also pristine.
When I found another same Set of 3 , but looking far older from the stained covers,
of course...I BOUGHT THE LOT !!!!!!
A thing I only realised this week....
.....and was I Pleased with ME!!!!
...and Thankful to Guy !!
The Tragedy is the early death of Guy de Maupassant at 43 in 1893.
The Glory is the huge output he left
...verse, 4 plays, 6 novels, 3 volumes of travel sketches and some 300 stories
...all this in thirteen years.
It was at a Second-Hand bookshop in ever busy Newtown,
an inner suburb of Sydney..."Elizabeth's".
What made it a Special Find for Me was not its age
- one of the introductory pages informed "This translation first published 1951"
which made it just a few years younger than myself,
but that it looked and felt as if it had just been "born" that very morning.
The older volume titled "Boule De Suif and Other Stories" was even MORE pristine !!!
(Inside I read "Published in Penguin Books 1946 (one year before I was created!!)
Reprinted 1949, 1951, 1952, 1954, 1956, 1961 ).
The third volume announced : This translation first published 1955. Reprinted 1957.
Its Title was "The Mountain Inn and Other Stories"....also pristine.
When I found another same Set of 3 , but looking far older from the stained covers,
of course...I BOUGHT THE LOT !!!!!!
A thing I only realised this week....
.....and was I Pleased with ME!!!!
...and Thankful to Guy !!
The Tragedy is the early death of Guy de Maupassant at 43 in 1893.
The Glory is the huge output he left
...verse, 4 plays, 6 novels, 3 volumes of travel sketches and some 300 stories
...all this in thirteen years.
June 26, 2014
The second volume translated by H.N.P. Sloman for Penguin Classics. If you're looking for an introduction to Maupassant's short stories I'd recommend Boule de Suif and other stories ahead of this. Boule de Suif contains his quirkier, more well known works (including my favourite The Sea) . Miss Harriet is far grimmer and there's less charm to oil the wheels as Maupassant exposes the hypocrisy and foibles of late 19th century French society.
The final story Monsieur Parent follows the life of a man constantly bullied by his wife, whose only joy is his toddler son George. After catching his wife and his best friend in flagrante he is told the child isn't his. Is she telling the truth? Or is this just her revenge? These questions torment him as he grows old descending into loneliness and alcoholism. Like I said very bleak and depressing. Read if your like caustic wit and are okay with losing your faith in humanity.
The final story Monsieur Parent follows the life of a man constantly bullied by his wife, whose only joy is his toddler son George. After catching his wife and his best friend in flagrante he is told the child isn't his. Is she telling the truth? Or is this just her revenge? These questions torment him as he grows old descending into loneliness and alcoholism. Like I said very bleak and depressing. Read if your like caustic wit and are okay with losing your faith in humanity.
October 29, 2014
On reproche à Maupassant un style "basic-french littéraire". En effet, son style n'est pas pompeux à la Goncourt, mais les récits de Maupassant possèdent une qualité qu'on ne trouve que rarement dans l'univers des romans français : ils hantent.
Dans ce recueil de nouvelles, Maupassant nous livre un point de vue peu romancé de la vie. Déception, tristesse, égoïsme et folie sont au rendez-vous en Normandie, à Paris et même dans des endroits peu propices, comme les wagons de train.
La multiplicité des protagonistes de toutes classes et de toutes origines ne sert qu'à renforcer une unique et même idée : trop d'amour ou peu d'amour est source de drames, quelque soit le contexte.
Dans ce recueil de nouvelles, Maupassant nous livre un point de vue peu romancé de la vie. Déception, tristesse, égoïsme et folie sont au rendez-vous en Normandie, à Paris et même dans des endroits peu propices, comme les wagons de train.
La multiplicité des protagonistes de toutes classes et de toutes origines ne sert qu'à renforcer une unique et même idée : trop d'amour ou peu d'amour est source de drames, quelque soit le contexte.
December 27, 2020
Hands up who has heard of Guy de Maupassant?
I can't see any hands up.
Even if we were all in the same room, I suspect, there would not be that many hands up. Maupassant was a French writer in the 1800's and is apparently known as the 'father of the short story'. While he influenced a number of better known writers, such as Leo Tolstoy, Henry James and Somerset Maugham, (and, interestingly, Gene Rodenberry used a theory of Maupassant's while writing about androids) he does not seem to be well remembered though from what I have seen here, none of the writers he influenced came close to his skill.
This small volume of short stories really blew me away! Not knowing what exactly to expect I was delighted by the effortless reading experience. The stories are about people, in essence, and they are neither sentimental, harsh nor flattering. The people and small experiences in these stories are in a historical setting, yet the core essence of Maupassant's characters is astonishingly undated - it is as if he exposes the essence of the humanity, the feelings and motivations in the small stories about their lives. As if he recognises and eliminates the chaff, the things that we use to judge and box people in, those things which stop us really seeing who people are.
The only element that is in any way jarring has to do, I am pretty sure, with the translation. My copy is old (It belonged to my parents) and was translated by H. N. P. Sloman for this 1951 edition (which cost 2/- according to the cover). In the introduction the translator tried to "...give the reader simple modern style free from gallicisms." and "Slang, which is bound to 'date', has generally been avoided...." However the actual result can be a bit odd to the modern reader, as 1950's 'simple English' has obviously dated significantly. For me, this small oddity in no way reduced the charm of the storytelling.
Collections of stories are hard for me to review usually, because each story tends to either differ from the others, or all of them blend together and in any case I like some more than others. In this little volume I loved ALL the stories without reservation and forced myself to read them one at a time so as not to detract from them, I'll mention one or two though.
The first story is The Legacy, in which the authors time working in the Ministries of Marine allows him to create an amazingly detailed and convincing setting, with a large cast of characters, in which three greedy and conniving people strive to get their hands on a legacy from a dead relative - the more they strive, the further away it seems. As the first story in the collection it surprised me, since none of the characters are likable (though entirely believable) and I normally struggle with stories without likable characters. The ending is fascinating!
Who Knows and The Withered Hand are both ghost/supernatural stories and I was amazed to find such elegant and suspenseful horror stories from before horror was even a genera. I suspect H. P. Lovecraft must have read de Maupassant and enlarged upon his repertoire, but to my mind these stories were better than anything by Lovecraft I have read.
Every story in this collection is a fascinating, distinct, gem, they don't meld into each other, like a lot of short stories by a single author often do and they are beautifully written.
As Maupassant served in the Franco-Prussian War of the 1870s several have that as a theme, but they are not at all what you would expect. In Prisoners of War for example, a French peasant girl tricks a group of Prussian soldiers and locks them in a cellar.
Some stories are simply philosophical musings, some are very sad. All, every single one of them, are brilliant.
In a strange aside, I came to read this book because it is mentioned, as literature, in another book of which I am very fond and which is, these days, almost as obscure as Guy de Maupassant The Franchise Affair by Josephine Tey.
I can't see any hands up.
Even if we were all in the same room, I suspect, there would not be that many hands up. Maupassant was a French writer in the 1800's and is apparently known as the 'father of the short story'. While he influenced a number of better known writers, such as Leo Tolstoy, Henry James and Somerset Maugham, (and, interestingly, Gene Rodenberry used a theory of Maupassant's while writing about androids) he does not seem to be well remembered though from what I have seen here, none of the writers he influenced came close to his skill.
This small volume of short stories really blew me away! Not knowing what exactly to expect I was delighted by the effortless reading experience. The stories are about people, in essence, and they are neither sentimental, harsh nor flattering. The people and small experiences in these stories are in a historical setting, yet the core essence of Maupassant's characters is astonishingly undated - it is as if he exposes the essence of the humanity, the feelings and motivations in the small stories about their lives. As if he recognises and eliminates the chaff, the things that we use to judge and box people in, those things which stop us really seeing who people are.
The only element that is in any way jarring has to do, I am pretty sure, with the translation. My copy is old (It belonged to my parents) and was translated by H. N. P. Sloman for this 1951 edition (which cost 2/- according to the cover). In the introduction the translator tried to "...give the reader simple modern style free from gallicisms." and "Slang, which is bound to 'date', has generally been avoided...." However the actual result can be a bit odd to the modern reader, as 1950's 'simple English' has obviously dated significantly. For me, this small oddity in no way reduced the charm of the storytelling.
Collections of stories are hard for me to review usually, because each story tends to either differ from the others, or all of them blend together and in any case I like some more than others. In this little volume I loved ALL the stories without reservation and forced myself to read them one at a time so as not to detract from them, I'll mention one or two though.
The first story is The Legacy, in which the authors time working in the Ministries of Marine allows him to create an amazingly detailed and convincing setting, with a large cast of characters, in which three greedy and conniving people strive to get their hands on a legacy from a dead relative - the more they strive, the further away it seems. As the first story in the collection it surprised me, since none of the characters are likable (though entirely believable) and I normally struggle with stories without likable characters. The ending is fascinating!
Who Knows and The Withered Hand are both ghost/supernatural stories and I was amazed to find such elegant and suspenseful horror stories from before horror was even a genera. I suspect H. P. Lovecraft must have read de Maupassant and enlarged upon his repertoire, but to my mind these stories were better than anything by Lovecraft I have read.
Every story in this collection is a fascinating, distinct, gem, they don't meld into each other, like a lot of short stories by a single author often do and they are beautifully written.
As Maupassant served in the Franco-Prussian War of the 1870s several have that as a theme, but they are not at all what you would expect. In Prisoners of War for example, a French peasant girl tricks a group of Prussian soldiers and locks them in a cellar.
Some stories are simply philosophical musings, some are very sad. All, every single one of them, are brilliant.
In a strange aside, I came to read this book because it is mentioned, as literature, in another book of which I am very fond and which is, these days, almost as obscure as Guy de Maupassant The Franchise Affair by Josephine Tey.
June 27, 2016
(Read in French.)
"Miss Harriet" poses series inquiries into human consciousness and conducts. The incongruence between what we hope the world to be, and the reality of human psyche and behavior is the main source of tragedy. Miss Harriet died of a particularly acute loss of hope; she gave up trying to reconcile to the world. Her consciousness suffers too long and too deeply in the world of normal human lives. The final breaks comes from the last thread of her connection with the world. Her love of nature and beauty sullied quite simply and quite naturally by the conduct of others.
The narrative view point comes from a vagabond painter who observed and interacted with Miss Harriet during their stay in a sea-side village inn. Harriet was devote and pious English Protestant, alien among the French villages and perhaps also driven to exile by her own fever. Chaste and reserved as a typical old maid, she had an unusually heightened sensibility toward natural beauty. She was taken back by the painter's sketches, developing into an emotional catastrophe. Poor Harriet, the only portal of her joy and delight -- the love of beauty and genuine human understanding -- was sullied in one random human act. Aye, the fragility of human soul when the only beam of light was snatched away so carelessly and so casually.
This is a empathic but not sentimental story probing the deeper lives of consciousness. It is a jewel.
"Miss Harriet" poses series inquiries into human consciousness and conducts. The incongruence between what we hope the world to be, and the reality of human psyche and behavior is the main source of tragedy. Miss Harriet died of a particularly acute loss of hope; she gave up trying to reconcile to the world. Her consciousness suffers too long and too deeply in the world of normal human lives. The final breaks comes from the last thread of her connection with the world. Her love of nature and beauty sullied quite simply and quite naturally by the conduct of others.
The narrative view point comes from a vagabond painter who observed and interacted with Miss Harriet during their stay in a sea-side village inn. Harriet was devote and pious English Protestant, alien among the French villages and perhaps also driven to exile by her own fever. Chaste and reserved as a typical old maid, she had an unusually heightened sensibility toward natural beauty. She was taken back by the painter's sketches, developing into an emotional catastrophe. Poor Harriet, the only portal of her joy and delight -- the love of beauty and genuine human understanding -- was sullied in one random human act. Aye, the fragility of human soul when the only beam of light was snatched away so carelessly and so casually.
This is a empathic but not sentimental story probing the deeper lives of consciousness. It is a jewel.
July 12, 2017
اي بؤس واي حزن
February 26, 2014
"العانس" أو "الآنسة هارييه" جي دو موباسان
هو أحد رواد القصة القصيرة المعاصرة.. كاتب وروائي وقاص فرنسي.. عاش ما بين 1850-1893 درس القانون والتحق بالجيش الفرنسي. كان دوماً ما يصاب بصداع عنيد يقضي الساعات يتلوى من الألم حتى أصيب بالجنون 1891 ومات في أحد المصحات العقلية.
العانس هي إحدى قصصه القصيرة وتتحدث عن حكاية غرامية حزينة يرويها العجوز "ليون شينال" كي يسلّي عن المسافرين معه في العربة. وكانت تلك الحكاية أحد مغامراته الشخصية في شبابه.
كان شينال شاباً يحب الريف الفرنسي ويكن إعجاباً خاصاً بفتيات الريف. وبينما هو يتنقل من قرية إلى أخرى حتى التقى بالآنسة هارييه جارته الإنجليزية الخمسينية في أحد الفنادق..
هارييه لم تكن تحمل أي خصائص جمال.. وكانت إنطوائية إلى حد كبير. تكن حباً للطبيعة والحيوانات وحبها الأكبر كان للرب. ورغم حبها هذا لكل الوجود والمخلوقات إلا أنها كانت تستثني الرجال من كل الذلك. كانت عذراء متزمتة في نظرتها الفريدة للرب.
كان شينال يهوى الرسم.. كثيراً ما يرسم الريف الفرنسي.. وهارييه محبة الطبيعة فكان تلك نقطة بداية صداقتهما.
عبّر موباسان ببراعة عن التناقضات العنيفة التي عصفت في نفس هارييه.. فكيف لعذراء خمسينية شبه "مترهبنة" أن تتقبل ما يدق لأجله قلبها اليوم بتلك البساطة ؟ نعم، لم تكن جميلة.. وكان شينال يصغرها.. لكنها وكأي إمرأة آخرى في هذا الكون قادرة على الحب.. وتشعر في قرارة نفسها أنها تستحق أن تُحب بالمقابل. لكنها لم تتفوه بكلمة وكل ما بدر منها هو تلك المتناقضات وردات الفعل العنيفة والتي لم يجد لها شينال "وببلاهة" مبرراً.
شينال العابث.. لربما شعر بها. ولربما كان رغم صداقته لها كان ينظر لها نظرته لرجل ! حتى أنه لم يتعفف عن العبث مع النادلة وحدث أن شاهدتهما هارييه وهما على تلك الحال. وأدرك شينال ذلك.
كيف من الممكن أن يكون الإنسان هشاً لهذه الدرجة يا موباسان ؟ قد لا ندرك ذلك على الورق. ولكنه كما صورته تماماً في الواقع هش حتى النخاع. كانت النهاية الحزينة تنسجم مع حياة هارييه وتمثل خاتمة رائعة لحكاية تترك أثراً بالنفس.
لا أخالها آخر ما أقرأ لموباسان.
هو أحد رواد القصة القصيرة المعاصرة.. كاتب وروائي وقاص فرنسي.. عاش ما بين 1850-1893 درس القانون والتحق بالجيش الفرنسي. كان دوماً ما يصاب بصداع عنيد يقضي الساعات يتلوى من الألم حتى أصيب بالجنون 1891 ومات في أحد المصحات العقلية.
العانس هي إحدى قصصه القصيرة وتتحدث عن حكاية غرامية حزينة يرويها العجوز "ليون شينال" كي يسلّي عن المسافرين معه في العربة. وكانت تلك الحكاية أحد مغامراته الشخصية في شبابه.
كان شينال شاباً يحب الريف الفرنسي ويكن إعجاباً خاصاً بفتيات الريف. وبينما هو يتنقل من قرية إلى أخرى حتى التقى بالآنسة هارييه جارته الإنجليزية الخمسينية في أحد الفنادق..
هارييه لم تكن تحمل أي خصائص جمال.. وكانت إنطوائية إلى حد كبير. تكن حباً للطبيعة والحيوانات وحبها الأكبر كان للرب. ورغم حبها هذا لكل الوجود والمخلوقات إلا أنها كانت تستثني الرجال من كل الذلك. كانت عذراء متزمتة في نظرتها الفريدة للرب.
كان شينال يهوى الرسم.. كثيراً ما يرسم الريف الفرنسي.. وهارييه محبة الطبيعة فكان تلك نقطة بداية صداقتهما.
عبّر موباسان ببراعة عن التناقضات العنيفة التي عصفت في نفس هارييه.. فكيف لعذراء خمسينية شبه "مترهبنة" أن تتقبل ما يدق لأجله قلبها اليوم بتلك البساطة ؟ نعم، لم تكن جميلة.. وكان شينال يصغرها.. لكنها وكأي إمرأة آخرى في هذا الكون قادرة على الحب.. وتشعر في قرارة نفسها أنها تستحق أن تُحب بالمقابل. لكنها لم تتفوه بكلمة وكل ما بدر منها هو تلك المتناقضات وردات الفعل العنيفة والتي لم يجد لها شينال "وببلاهة" مبرراً.
شينال العابث.. لربما شعر بها. ولربما كان رغم صداقته لها كان ينظر لها نظرته لرجل ! حتى أنه لم يتعفف عن العبث مع النادلة وحدث أن شاهدتهما هارييه وهما على تلك الحال. وأدرك شينال ذلك.
كيف من الممكن أن يكون الإنسان هشاً لهذه الدرجة يا موباسان ؟ قد لا ندرك ذلك على الورق. ولكنه كما صورته تماماً في الواقع هش حتى النخاع. كانت النهاية الحزينة تنسجم مع حياة هارييه وتمثل خاتمة رائعة لحكاية تترك أثراً بالنفس.
لا أخالها آخر ما أقرأ لموباسان.
June 14, 2017
Well. They're perfectly readable only...I'm not sure I got the point.
They seem to have no particular ending or purpose. No twist or resolution or particular atmosphere... just a sort of vaguely depressing set of anecdotes that don't lead anywhere.
They seem to have no particular ending or purpose. No twist or resolution or particular atmosphere... just a sort of vaguely depressing set of anecdotes that don't lead anywhere.
February 4, 2025
I really enjoyed the first and main story "Miss Harriet" the others I thought were hit and miss but it's always a pleasure to indulge in Maupassant's prose. He manages to make short seemingly mundane tales both funny and haunting. Not to mention the delightful way he paints the landscapes of my beloved Normandy.
Not his best but worth a read anyway.
Not his best but worth a read anyway.
August 14, 2019
The story of an English lady in France. It was a good read.
December 26, 2021
Muy buen cuento. Estos cuentos cortos , intensos y llenos de reflexiones son ideales para lectores que quieran iniciarse con este autor.
February 3, 2025
Les nouvelles : Miss Harriet, L'Héritage, Denis, L'Ane, L'Idylle, La Ficelle, Garçon, un bock !..., Le Baptême, Regret, Mon oncle Jules, En voyage, La mère Sauvage
August 5, 2024
Me empiezan a deprimir un poco estos cuentos de Maupassant....Transmite muy bien la angustia, la desazón....y esos personajes tan..... de mantener las formas..y acaban siempre tan mal
January 28, 2022
Guy de Maupassant's "Miss Harriet" is a truly heart breaking story of an old maid and what comes to pass. I can see why Vincent van Gogh enjoyed Maupassant, he paints in words, I wonder if he had read this one.
Story in short- A painter tells his most saddest love affair he ever had in his life.
I didn't read this edition but from a Delphi collection of his short stories which included the below comment about the title being chamged.
[Miss Harriet appeared in Le Gaulois, July 9, 1883, under the title of Miss Hastings. The story was later revised, enlarged; and partly wrote to Editor Havard March 15, 1884, in an unedited letter, in regard to the title of the story that was to give its name to the volume: “I do not believe that Hastings is a bad name, inasmuch as it is known all over the world, and recalls the greatest facts in English history. Besides, Hastings is as much a name as Duval is with us..“The name Cherbuliez selected, Miss Revel, is no more like an English name than like a Turkish name. But here is another name as English as Hastings, and more euphonious; it is Miss Harriet. I will ask you therefore to substitute Harriet for Hastings.” It was in regard to this very tittle that De Maupassant had a disagreement with Audran and Boucheron director of the Bouffes Parisiens in October, 1890 They had given this title to an operetta about to be played at the Bouffes. It ended however, by their ceding to De Maupassant, and the title of the operetta was changed to Miss Helyett.]
"Ladies, it will not be an amusing tale, for I am going to relate to you the saddest love affair of my life, and I sincerely hope that none of my friends may ever pass through a similar experience. “I was twenty-five years of age and was pillaging along the coast of Normandy. I call ‘pillaging’ wandering about, with a knapsack on one’s back, from inn to inn, under the pretext of making studies and sketching landscapes. I knew nothing more enjoyable than that happy-go-lucky wandering life, in which one is perfectly free, without shackles of any kind, without care, without preoccupation, without thinking even of the morrow."
❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌spoiler alert ❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌
Leon tells about his painting in a village and especially about an English woman named Miss Harriet, who is over fifty and an old maid. It is surmised that she is a mystery about her past life, it seems innocent and her religious beliefs are strange to the villagers. Leon finds her strange until after painting something he was proud of which the landlady was not impressed with, but the old maid is effected and says that the artist understands nature. They started a friendship and she started to watch him paint but suddenly she changed and stays away from him. He finally sees this lonely old lady had fallen in love with him by her tremor and he did not know what to do. He decided he must leave and announces his plan, the young farm girl is upset, he had kissed her several times and decided to once more. Miss Harriet walks in and notices them, she then runs away. Leon feels guilty and everyone starts to wonder where she went, until when they tried to get water in the well and notice her body there. Leon dresses and watches over her body, the women refuse, giving it a kiss before her burial. She had loved nature so much and her love for the painter was too much for her to handle. Extremely sad, if she had been youunger, they might have had a mutual love. Many people live there whole life without feeling love, which is indeed very sad.
“In five minutes we had come to an agreement, and I deposited my bag upon the earthen floor of a rustic room, furnished with a bed, two chairs, a table and a washbowl. The room looked into the large, smoky kitchen, where the lodgers took their meals with the people of the farm and the landlady, who was a widow. “I washed my hands, after which I went out. The old woman was making a chicken fricassee for dinner in the large fireplace in which hung the iron pot, black with smoke. “‘You have travellers, then, at the present time?’ said I to her. “She answered in an offended tone of voice: “‘I have a lady, an English lady, who has reached years of maturity. She occupies the other room.’ “I obtained, by means of an extra five sous a day, the privilege of dining alone out in the yard when the weather was fine."
“Suddenly the wooden gate which gave on the highway was opened, and a strange lady directed her steps toward the house. She was very thin, very tall, so tightly enveloped in a red Scotch plaid shawl that one might have supposed she had no arms, if one had not seen a long hand appear just above the hips, holding a white tourist umbrella. Her face was like that of a mummy, surrounded with curls of gray hair, which tossed about at every step she took and made me think, I know not why, of a pickled herring in curl papers. Lowering her eyes, she passed quickly in front of me and entered the house. “That singular apparition cheered me. She undoubtedly was my neighbor, the English lady of mature age of whom our hostess had spoken. “I did not see her again that day. The next day, when I had settled myself to commence painting at the end of that beautiful valley which you know and which extends as far as Etretat, I perceived, on lifting my eyes suddenly, something singular standing on the crest of the cliff, one might have said a pole decked out with flags. It was she. On seeing me, she suddenly disappeared. I reentered the house at midday for lunch and took my seat at the general table, so as to make the acquaintance of this odd character. But she did not respond to my polite advances, was insensible even to my little attentions. I poured out water for her persistently, I passed her the dishes with great eagerness. A slight, almost imperceptible, movement of the head and an English word, murmured so low that I did not understand it, were her only acknowledgments. “I ceased occupying myself with her, although she had disturbed my thoughts. “At the end of three days I knew as much about her as did Madame Lecacheur herself. “She was called Miss Harriet. Seeking out a secluded village in which to pass the summer, she had been attracted to Benouville some six months before and did not seem disposed to leave it."
“‘I love the Saviour more than all. I admire him in all creation; I adore him in all nature; I carry him always in my heart.’ “And she would immediately present the old woman with one of her tracts which were destined to convert the universe. “In, the village she was not liked. In fact, the schoolmaster having pronounced her an atheist, a kind of stigma attached to her. The cure, who had been consulted by Madame Lecacheur, responded:“‘She is a heretic, but God does not wish the death of the sinner, and I believe her to be a person of pure morals.’
“‘What do you think, sir? She picked up a toad which had had its paw crushed and carried it to her room and has put it in her washbasin and bandaged it as if it were a man. If that is not profanation I should like to know what is!’ “On another occasion, when walking along the shore she bought a large fish which had just been caught, simply to throw it back into the sea again. The sailor from whom she had bought it, although she paid him handsomely, now began to swear, more exasperated, indeed, than if she had put her hand into his pocket and taken his money. For more than a month he could not speak of the circumstance without becoming furious and denouncing it as an outrage. Oh, yes! She was indeed a demoniac, this Miss Harriet, and Mother Lecacheur must have had an inspiration in thus christening her."
"‘Look at that, my old beauty; you will not often see its like again.’ “When I had reached the house I immediately called out to Mother Lecacheur, shouting with all my might: “‘Hullo, there! Mrs. Landlady, come here and look at this.’ “The rustic approached and looked at my work with her stupid eyes which distinguished nothing
and could not even tell whether the picture represented an ox or a house. “Miss Harriet just then came home, and she passed behind me just as I was holding out my canvas at arm’s length, exhibiting it to our landlady. The demoniac could not help but see it, for I took care to exhibit the thing in such a way that it could not escape her notice. She stopped abruptly and stood motionless, astonished. It was her rock which was depicted, the one which she climbed to dream away her time undisturbed. “She uttered a British ‘Aoh,’ which was at once so accentuated and so flattering that I turned round to her, smiling, and said: “‘This is my latest study, mademoiselle.’ “She murmured rapturously, comically and tenderly: “‘Oh! monsieur, you understand nature as a living thing.’ “I colored and was more touched by that compliment than if it had come from a queen. I was captured, conquered, vanquished. I could have embraced her, upon my honor. “I took my seat at table beside her as usual. For the first time she spoke, thinking aloud: “‘Oh! I do love nature.’"
Story in short- A painter tells his most saddest love affair he ever had in his life.
I didn't read this edition but from a Delphi collection of his short stories which included the below comment about the title being chamged.
[Miss Harriet appeared in Le Gaulois, July 9, 1883, under the title of Miss Hastings. The story was later revised, enlarged; and partly wrote to Editor Havard March 15, 1884, in an unedited letter, in regard to the title of the story that was to give its name to the volume: “I do not believe that Hastings is a bad name, inasmuch as it is known all over the world, and recalls the greatest facts in English history. Besides, Hastings is as much a name as Duval is with us..“The name Cherbuliez selected, Miss Revel, is no more like an English name than like a Turkish name. But here is another name as English as Hastings, and more euphonious; it is Miss Harriet. I will ask you therefore to substitute Harriet for Hastings.” It was in regard to this very tittle that De Maupassant had a disagreement with Audran and Boucheron director of the Bouffes Parisiens in October, 1890 They had given this title to an operetta about to be played at the Bouffes. It ended however, by their ceding to De Maupassant, and the title of the operetta was changed to Miss Helyett.]
"Ladies, it will not be an amusing tale, for I am going to relate to you the saddest love affair of my life, and I sincerely hope that none of my friends may ever pass through a similar experience. “I was twenty-five years of age and was pillaging along the coast of Normandy. I call ‘pillaging’ wandering about, with a knapsack on one’s back, from inn to inn, under the pretext of making studies and sketching landscapes. I knew nothing more enjoyable than that happy-go-lucky wandering life, in which one is perfectly free, without shackles of any kind, without care, without preoccupation, without thinking even of the morrow."
❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌spoiler alert ❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌
Leon tells about his painting in a village and especially about an English woman named Miss Harriet, who is over fifty and an old maid. It is surmised that she is a mystery about her past life, it seems innocent and her religious beliefs are strange to the villagers. Leon finds her strange until after painting something he was proud of which the landlady was not impressed with, but the old maid is effected and says that the artist understands nature. They started a friendship and she started to watch him paint but suddenly she changed and stays away from him. He finally sees this lonely old lady had fallen in love with him by her tremor and he did not know what to do. He decided he must leave and announces his plan, the young farm girl is upset, he had kissed her several times and decided to once more. Miss Harriet walks in and notices them, she then runs away. Leon feels guilty and everyone starts to wonder where she went, until when they tried to get water in the well and notice her body there. Leon dresses and watches over her body, the women refuse, giving it a kiss before her burial. She had loved nature so much and her love for the painter was too much for her to handle. Extremely sad, if she had been youunger, they might have had a mutual love. Many people live there whole life without feeling love, which is indeed very sad.
“In five minutes we had come to an agreement, and I deposited my bag upon the earthen floor of a rustic room, furnished with a bed, two chairs, a table and a washbowl. The room looked into the large, smoky kitchen, where the lodgers took their meals with the people of the farm and the landlady, who was a widow. “I washed my hands, after which I went out. The old woman was making a chicken fricassee for dinner in the large fireplace in which hung the iron pot, black with smoke. “‘You have travellers, then, at the present time?’ said I to her. “She answered in an offended tone of voice: “‘I have a lady, an English lady, who has reached years of maturity. She occupies the other room.’ “I obtained, by means of an extra five sous a day, the privilege of dining alone out in the yard when the weather was fine."
“Suddenly the wooden gate which gave on the highway was opened, and a strange lady directed her steps toward the house. She was very thin, very tall, so tightly enveloped in a red Scotch plaid shawl that one might have supposed she had no arms, if one had not seen a long hand appear just above the hips, holding a white tourist umbrella. Her face was like that of a mummy, surrounded with curls of gray hair, which tossed about at every step she took and made me think, I know not why, of a pickled herring in curl papers. Lowering her eyes, she passed quickly in front of me and entered the house. “That singular apparition cheered me. She undoubtedly was my neighbor, the English lady of mature age of whom our hostess had spoken. “I did not see her again that day. The next day, when I had settled myself to commence painting at the end of that beautiful valley which you know and which extends as far as Etretat, I perceived, on lifting my eyes suddenly, something singular standing on the crest of the cliff, one might have said a pole decked out with flags. It was she. On seeing me, she suddenly disappeared. I reentered the house at midday for lunch and took my seat at the general table, so as to make the acquaintance of this odd character. But she did not respond to my polite advances, was insensible even to my little attentions. I poured out water for her persistently, I passed her the dishes with great eagerness. A slight, almost imperceptible, movement of the head and an English word, murmured so low that I did not understand it, were her only acknowledgments. “I ceased occupying myself with her, although she had disturbed my thoughts. “At the end of three days I knew as much about her as did Madame Lecacheur herself. “She was called Miss Harriet. Seeking out a secluded village in which to pass the summer, she had been attracted to Benouville some six months before and did not seem disposed to leave it."
“‘I love the Saviour more than all. I admire him in all creation; I adore him in all nature; I carry him always in my heart.’ “And she would immediately present the old woman with one of her tracts which were destined to convert the universe. “In, the village she was not liked. In fact, the schoolmaster having pronounced her an atheist, a kind of stigma attached to her. The cure, who had been consulted by Madame Lecacheur, responded:“‘She is a heretic, but God does not wish the death of the sinner, and I believe her to be a person of pure morals.’
“‘What do you think, sir? She picked up a toad which had had its paw crushed and carried it to her room and has put it in her washbasin and bandaged it as if it were a man. If that is not profanation I should like to know what is!’ “On another occasion, when walking along the shore she bought a large fish which had just been caught, simply to throw it back into the sea again. The sailor from whom she had bought it, although she paid him handsomely, now began to swear, more exasperated, indeed, than if she had put her hand into his pocket and taken his money. For more than a month he could not speak of the circumstance without becoming furious and denouncing it as an outrage. Oh, yes! She was indeed a demoniac, this Miss Harriet, and Mother Lecacheur must have had an inspiration in thus christening her."
"‘Look at that, my old beauty; you will not often see its like again.’ “When I had reached the house I immediately called out to Mother Lecacheur, shouting with all my might: “‘Hullo, there! Mrs. Landlady, come here and look at this.’ “The rustic approached and looked at my work with her stupid eyes which distinguished nothing
and could not even tell whether the picture represented an ox or a house. “Miss Harriet just then came home, and she passed behind me just as I was holding out my canvas at arm’s length, exhibiting it to our landlady. The demoniac could not help but see it, for I took care to exhibit the thing in such a way that it could not escape her notice. She stopped abruptly and stood motionless, astonished. It was her rock which was depicted, the one which she climbed to dream away her time undisturbed. “She uttered a British ‘Aoh,’ which was at once so accentuated and so flattering that I turned round to her, smiling, and said: “‘This is my latest study, mademoiselle.’ “She murmured rapturously, comically and tenderly: “‘Oh! monsieur, you understand nature as a living thing.’ “I colored and was more touched by that compliment than if it had come from a queen. I was captured, conquered, vanquished. I could have embraced her, upon my honor. “I took my seat at table beside her as usual. For the first time she spoke, thinking aloud: “‘Oh! I do love nature.’"
October 12, 2024
Great characterisations and stories of the darker sides of society.
January 5, 2017
Savage and tender by turn, full of mordant wit, a delight for the soul weary flaneur - after Monsieur Parent, though, a stiff drink is required
January 28, 2018
Intenso e inigualable. Es la segunda historia corta que leo de Maupassant y es simplemete magnifica.
September 15, 2018
Comme toujours c'est un énorme plaisir de lire Maupassant !!
September 2, 2019
We read sometimes the novels or books which we aren't enjoying. This is one of those.
April 8, 2020
Mes histoires préférées sont Miss Harriet, L'Héritage et La Ficelle.
June 28, 2021
A beautiful dawn morning coach ride is the setting for the recounting of a tragic story. A travelling painter encounters an odd English woman. The painter's vision are a love letter to nature and he finds a lovely area he would like to paint. The English lady who is staying at the same inn as the painter is very like other stereotypical spinsters in that they are desperate to be loved at any cost. This generally quiet lady is referred to by the locals as 'the demoniac' because she does not share the religion of the locals. She is seen in the village as disruptive due to her unwanted proselytizing and her supposedly heretical beliefs. Eventually her love of nature draws her to the painter and a friendship ensues. It does not end well.
Library download narrated by George Guidell.
Library download narrated by George Guidell.
May 18, 2023
Miss Harriet ist eine Novelle Maupassants, die eher ernstere Töne anschlägt und zum Ende hin gar dramatisch wird. Auch hier zeigt sich der Autor wortgewandt und kreiert eine ansprechende Atmosphäre. Dennoch fehlt mir sein sonst oft gezeigter Biss. Es ist die bisher längste Geschichte, die ich von Maupassant las. Aber sie hat nicht erkennbar mehr Inhalt als selbst seine kürzesten Erzählungen.
June 13, 2018
A young artist meets 50 something English spinster in a small country lodging house on the northern coast of France. They share an unrequited moment. Maupassant is known for his denouements with a twist, and this is no exception. 4 stars.
April 17, 2024
Оценка каждой из новелл:
Мисс Гарриет - 3
Наследство - 5
Дени - 2
Осёл - 4
Идиллия - 2
Верёвочка - 5
Гарсон, кружку пива! - 5
Крестины - 3
Сожаление - 5
Дядя Жюль - 5
В пути - 4
Старуха Соваж - 5
Мисс Гарриет - 3
Наследство - 5
Дени - 2
Осёл - 4
Идиллия - 2
Верёвочка - 5
Гарсон, кружку пива! - 5
Крестины - 3
Сожаление - 5
Дядя Жюль - 5
В пути - 4
Старуха Соваж - 5
July 12, 2020
Good short story with a surprise.
August 15, 2022
A sad love tale.
February 9, 2024
Un relato breve, mi primera lectura oficial de este autor. Aunque la edición que tuve no fue muy allá, ha sido una lectura instantánea para un lunes en el metro.
March 12, 2025
Malgré que certaines nouvelles soient moins intéressantes que d'autres, l'écriture maupassanesque ne peut que me charmer. Sa plume est si belle à lire.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 37 reviews