FIND A SOLUTION AT Academic Writers Bay
College essay writing serviceQuestion descriptionQuestion and story below. Any questions or concerns regarding assignment please ask.One of the issues explored in this greed. What, specifically, do you think is being said about greed?Find at least one quotation from the story that helps to support your answer and use proper MLA to cite it.
Title:The NecklaceShort storyAuthor(s):Guy de MaupassantFrench Writer ( 1850 – 1893 )Other Names Used:Maupassant, Henri Rene Albert Guy de;Source:Little Masterpieces of Fiction. Ed. Hamilton Wright Mabie and Lionel Strachey. Vol. 5. New York:Doubleday, Page & Company, 1904. p20.Document Type:Short storyFull Text:Original Language:FrenchText :SHE was one of those pretty, charming girlswho are sometimes, as if through the irony offate, born into a family of clerks. She waswithout dowry or expectations, and had no means of becoming known, appreciated, loved, wedded, by any rich or influential man;soshe allowed herself to be married to a small clerk belonging to the Ministry of Public Instruction. She dressed plainly becauseshecould not afford to dress well, and was unhappy because she feltshe had dropped from her proper station, which for women is amatter of attractiveness, beauty, and grace, rather than of family descent. Good manners, an intuitive knowledge of what is elegant,nimbleness of wit, are the onlyrequirements necessary to place a woman of the people on an equality withone of the aristocracy.She fretted constantly, feeling all thingsdelicate and luxurious to be her birthright. She suffered on account of the meagreness of hersurroundings, the bareness of the walls, the tarnished furniture, the ugly curtains; deficiencies which would have left any other womanof her class untouched, irritated and tormented her. The sight of the little Breton peasant who did her humble housework engenderedhopeless regrets followed by fantastic dreams. She thought of a noiseless, hallowed ante-room, with Oriental carpets, lighted with tallbranching candlesticks of bronzeand of two big, kneebreeched footmen, drowsy from the stoveheatedair, dozing in great arm-chairs.She thought of a long drawing-room hung with ancient brocade,of a beautiful cabinet holding priceless curios, of an alluring,scentedboudoir intended for five-o’clock chats with intimates, with menfamous and courted, and whose acquaintance is longed for by allwomen.When she sat down to dinner, at the round table spread with a cloth three days old, opposite her husband who uncovered the tureen,and exclaimed with ecstasy, “Ah, I like a good stew! I know nothing to beat this!” she thought of dainty dinners, of shining plate, oftapestry which peopled the walls with human shapes, and with strange birds flying among fairy trees. And then she thought ofdelicious viands served in costly dishes, and of murmured gallantries which you listen to with a comfortable smile while you areeating the rose-tinted flesh of a trout or the wing of a quail.She had no handsome gowns, no jewels—nothing, though these were her whole life; it was these thatmeant existence to her. Shewould so have liked to please, to be thought fascinating, to beenvied, to be sought out. She had a friend, a former schoolmateat theconvent, who was rich, but whom she didnot like to go to see any more becauseshe would come home jealous, covetous.But one evening her husband returned home jubilant, holding a large envelope in his hand.“Here is something for you,” he said.She tore open the cover sharply, and drewout a printed card bearing these words: “The Minister of Public Instruction and Mme.Georges Ramponneau request the honour of M.and Mme. Loisel’s company at the palace ofthe Ministry on Monday evening, January18th.”Instead of being delighted as her husband expected, she threw the invitation on the table with disgust, muttering, “What do youthink Ican do with that?”“But, my dear, I thought you would be pleased. You never go anywhere, and this is such a rare opportunity. I had hard work to get it.Every one is wild to go: it is very select, and invitations toclerks are scarce. The whole official world will be there.”She looked at him with a scornful eye, as she said petulantly, “And what have I to put on my back?” He had not thought of that.Hestammered, “Why, the dress you wear tothe theatre; it looks all right to me.”He stopped in despair, seeing his wife was crying. Two big tearsrolled down from the corners ofher eyes to the corners of hermouth.“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” he faltered.With great effort, she controlled herself, and replied coldly, while she dried her wet cheeks:“Nothing, except that I have no dress, and, for that reason, cannot go to the ball. Give your invitation to some fellow-clerk whose wifeis better provided than I am.”He was dumfounded, but replied:“Come, Mathilde, let us see now—how muchwould a suitable dress cost; one you could wear at other times—something quitesimple?”She pondered several moments, calculating, and guessing too, howmuch she could safely ask for without an instant refusal orbringing down upon her head a volley of objections from her frugal husband.At length she said hesitatingly, “I can’t say exactly, but I think I could do with four hundred francs.”He changed colour because he was laying aside just that sum to buy a gun and treat himself to a little shooting next summer ontheplain of Nanterre, with several friends, who went down there onSundays to shoot larks. Nevertheless, he said: “Very well, I will giveyou four hundred francs. Get a pretty dress.”The day of the ball drew near, and Mme. Loisel seemed despondent, nervous, upset, though her dress was all ready. One evening herhusband observed: “I say, what is the matter, Mathilde? You have been very queer lately.” And she replied, “It exasperates me not tohave a single ornament of any kind to put on. I shall look like a fright—I would almost rather stay at home.” He answered: “Whynotwear flowers? They are very fashionableat this time of the year. You can geta handful of fine roses for ten francs.”But she was not persuaded. “No, it’s so mortifyingto look poverty-stricken among women who are rich.”Then her husband exclaimed: “How slow you are! Go and see your friend, Mme. Forestier, and ask her to lend you some jewels. Youknow her well enough to do that.”She gave an exclamation of delight: “True! I never thought of that!”Next day she went to her friend and poured out her woes. Mme. Forestier went to a closet with a glass door, took out a largejewel-box, brought it back, opened it, and said toMme. Loisel, “Here, takeyour choice, my dear.”She looked at some bracelets, then at a pearl necklace, and thenat a Venetian cross curiouslywrought of gold and precious stones. Shetried on the ornaments before the mirror, hesitated, was loath totake them off and return them. She kept inquiring, “Have youanymore?”“Certainly, look for yourself. I don’t know what you want.”Suddenly Mathilde discovered, in a black satin box, a magnificent necklace of diamonds, and her heart beganto beat with excitement.With trembling hands she took the necklaceand fastened it round her neck outside her dress, becoming lost in admiration of herself asshe looked in the glass. Tremulous with fear lest she be refused, she asked, “Will you lend me this—only this?”“Yes, of course I will.”Mathilde fell upon her friend’s neck, kissed her passionately, and rushed off with her treasure.The day of the ball arrived.Mme. Loisel was a great success.She was prettier than them all, lovely, gracious,smiling, and wild with delight. All the menlookedat her, inquired her name, tried to be introduced; all the officials of the Ministry wanted a waltz—even the minister himself noticedher. She danced with abandon, with ecstasy,intoxicated with joy, forgetting everything in the triumph of her beauty, in the radiance ofher success, in a kind of mirage of bliss made up of all this worship, this adulation, of allthese stirring impulses, and of that realisationof perfect surrender, so sweet to the sould of woman.She left about four in the morning.Since midnight her husband had been sleeping in a little deserted anteroom with three other men whose wives were enjoyingthemselves. He threw over her shoulders the wraps he had brought,ordinary, everyday garments, contrasting sorrily with her elegantball dress. She felt this, and wanted to get away so as not to be seen by the other women, who were putting on costly furs.Loisel detained her: “Wait a little; you will catch cold outside; I will go and call a cab.”But she would not listen to him, and hurried down-stairs. Whenthey reached the street they could not find a carriage, and theybeganto look for one, shouting to the cabmen who were passing by. They went down toward the river in desperation, shivering with cold. Atlast they found on the quays one of those antiquated, all-nightbroughams, which, in Paris, wait till after dark before venturing todisplay their dilapidation. It took them to their door in theRue des Martyrs, and once more, wearily, they climbed the stairs.Now all was over for her; as for him, he remembered that he mustbe at his office at ten o’clock. She threw off her cloak before theglass, that she might behold herself once more in all her magnificence. Suddenly she uttered a cry of dismay—the necklace was gone!Her husband, already half-undressed, called out, “Anything wrong?”She turned wildly toward him: “I have—Ihave—I’ve lost Mme. Forestier’s necklace!”He stood aghast: “Where? When? You haven’t!”They looked in the folds of her dress, in the folds of her cloak, in her pocket, everywhere. They could not find it.“Are you sure,” he said, “that you had it on when you left the ball?”“Yes; I felt it in the corridor of the palace.”“But if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it fall. It must be in the cab.”“No doubt. Did you take his number?”“No. And didn’t you notice it either?”“No.”They looked at each other, terror-stricken. At last Loisel put on his clothes.“I shall go back on foot,” he said, “over the whole route we came by, tosee if I can’t find it.”He went out, and she sat waiting in her ball dress, too dazed to go to bed, cold, crushed, lifeless, unableto think. Her husband cameback at seven o’clock. He had found nothing. He went to PoliceHeadquarters, to the newspaper office—where he advertised a reward.He went to the cab companies—to every place, in fact, that seemed at all hopeful.She waited all day in the same awful state of mind at this terrible misfortune.Loisel returned at night with a wan, white face.He had found nothing.“Write immediately to your friend,” saidhe, “that you have broken the clasp of hernecklace, and that you have taken it to bemended.That will give us time to turn about.”She wrote as he told her.By the end of the week they had given up all hope. Loisel,who looked five years older, said, “We must plan how we can replacethenecklace.”The next day they took the black satin box to the jeweller whose name was found inside. He referred to his books.“You did not buy thatnecklace of me, Madame. I canonly have supplied the case.”They went from jeweller to jeweller, hunting for a necklace likethe lost one, trying to rememberits appearance, heartsick with shameand misery. Finally, in a shop at the Palais Royal, they found a string of diamonds which looked to them just like the other. The pricewas forty thousand francs, but they could have it for thirty-sixthousand. They begged the jewellerto keep it three days for them, andmade an agreement with him thathe should buy it back for thirty-four thousand francs if theyfound the lost necklace before the last ofFebruary.Loisel had inherited eighteen thousand francs from his father. Hecould borrow the remainder. And he did borrow right and left,askinga thousand francs of one, five hundred of another, five louishere, three louis there. He gave notes, assumed heavy obligations,trafficked with money-lenders at usurious rates, and, puttingthe rest of his life in pawn, pledged his signature over and overagain. Notknowing how he was to make it all good, and terrified by thepenalty yet to come, by the dark destruction which hung over him,by thecertainty of incalculable deprivations of body and tortures of sould, he went to get the new bauble, throwing down upon the jeweller’scounter the thirty-six thousand francs.When Mme. Loisel returned the necklace, Mme. Forestier said to her coldly: “Why didyou not bring it back sooner? I might havewanted it.”She did not open the case—to the great relief of her friend.Supposing she had! Would she have discovered the substitution, and what would she have said? Would she not have accused Mme.Loisel of theft?Mme. Loisel now knew what it was to be in want, but she showed sudden and remarkable courage. That awful debt must be paid, andshe would pay it.They sent away their servant, and moved up into a garret under the roof. She began to find out what heavy housework and thefatiguing drudgery of the kitchen meant. She washed the dishes,scraping the greasy pots and pans with her rosy rails. She washed thedirty linen, the shirts and dish-towels, which dried upon the line. She lugged slops and refuse down to the street every morning,bringing back fresh water, stopping on every landing, panting for breath. With her basket on her arm, and dressed like a womanof thepeople, she haggled with the fruiterer, thegrocer, and the butcher, often insulted, but getting every sou’s worth that belonged to her.Each month notes had to be met, others renewed, extensions oftime procured. Her husband worked in the evenings, straighteningouttradesmen’s accounts; he sat up late at night,copying manuscripts at five sous a page.And this they did for ten years.At the end of that time they had paid up everything, everything—with all the principal and theaccumulated compound interest.Mme. Loisel looked old now. She had become a domestic drudge, sinewy, rough-skinned, coarse. With towsled hair, tucked-up skirts,and red hands, she would talk loudly while mopping the floor withgreat splashes of water. But sometimes, when alone, she sat nearthe window, and she thought of that gay evening long ago, of the ball where she had been so beautiful, so much admired. Supposingshe had not lost the necklace—what then? Whoknows? Who knows? Life is sostrange and shifting. How easy it is to be ruined orsaved!But one Sunday, going for a walk in the Champs elysées to refresh herself after herhard week’s work, she accidentally came upon afamiliar-looking woman with a child. It was Mme.Forestier, still young, still lovely, still charming.Mme. Loisel became agitated. Should she speak to her? Of course. Now that shehad paid, she would tell her all about it. Why not?She went up to her.“How do you do, Jeanne?”The other, astonished at the easy manner toward her assumed by a plain housewife whom she did not recognise, said:“But, Madame, you have made a mistake; I do not know you.”“Why, I am Mathilde Loisel!”Her friend gave a start.“Oh, my poor Mathilde,” she cried, “how you have changed!”“Yes; I have seen hard days since last I saw you; hard enough—andall because of you.”“Of me? And why?”“You remember the diamond necklace you loaned me to wear at the Ministry ball?”“Yes, I do. What of it?”“Well, I lost it!”“But you brought it back—explain yourself.”“I bought one just like it, and it took us ten years to pay for it. It was not easy for us who had nothing, but it is all overnow, and I amglad.”Mme. Forestier stared.“And you bought a necklace ofdiamonds to replace mine?”“Yes; and you never knew the difference,they were so alike.” Andshe smiled with joyful pride at the success of it all.Mme. Forestier, deeply moved, took both her hands.“Oh, my poor Mathilde! My necklace was paste. It was worth only about fivehundred francs!”RELATED INFORMATIONBiography:Guy de MaupassantExplanation of:“The Necklace” by Guy de MaupassantAt AdvancedUSWriters.com, we make your academic life easier. Don’t worry about poring through tones of academic materials in search of ideas for your paper. Assign your homework to one of our writers. We’ll write and deliver your assignment on time!
Assignment status: Already Solved By Our Experts
(USA, AUS, UK & CA PhD. Writers)