莫泊桑短篇小说loisel

『壹』 《项链》的故事梗概

故事讲述崇尚上流社会的女子玛蒂尔德（Mathilde），年轻时总是梦想自己拥有珠光宝气并受人欣羡，但成年后仍旧一无所有，并嫁给了一个只会一味讨她欢喜，在教育部当低阶文员的洛瓦塞尔（Loisel）。

一天丈夫争取到了供职教育部举办晚会的一封请柬。在机会面前，玛蒂尔德却因没有服饰十分懊恼。丈夫把原本要存下来买来福枪的钱给她买了华丽的晚装，但她还是想要珠宝首饰。

因为没有钱，丈夫让她找她以前的同学珍娜（Jeanne）借点儿首饰。她有幸借到了最眩目的宝石项链，也的确令她占尽晚会的风头，不料随后项链就丢了。

玛蒂尔德和丈夫倾家荡产的拿出积蓄并借债凑够三万六千法郎买来新项链还给珍娜。随后数年里，她和丈夫勤俭节约，辛苦劳作偿清债务。玛蒂尔德在极乐公园撞见了珍娜，并告诉了她项链丢失后买新项链奉还的事情。珍娜听完非常惊异的说，那串项链其实只是价值五百法郎的赝品。

(1)莫泊桑短篇小说loisel扩展阅读：

《项链》（法语：LaParure）是法国作家莫泊桑创作的短篇小说，也是他的代表作之一，最初刊载于1884年2月14日的《高卢报》（LesGaulois，后来被并入现在的费加洛报），以其极具莫泊桑风格的大逆转结局而闻名。

句子解析

1、雪白雪白的浪花，哗哗地笑着，涌向沙滩，悄悄撒下小小的海螺和贝壳。

这是拟人句，写出了浪花的调皮，饱含着作者对浪花的喜爱之情。

2、小娃娃嘻嘻地笑着，迎上去，捡起小小的海螺和贝壳，穿成彩色的项链，挂在胸前。

写孩子们用海螺和贝壳穿成彩色的项链，表现了小娃娃的聪明可爱。

3、快活的脚印印在沙滩上，穿成金色的项链，挂在大海胸前。

指孩子在沙滩上行走时留下的一串串脚印，沙滩是黄色的，踩出的脚印也是黄色的，所以说是“金色的项链”。

『贰』 莫泊桑项链对白

The Necklace

She was one of those pretty and charming girls born, as though fate had blundered over her, into a family of artisans. She had no marriage portion, no expectations, no means of getting known, understood, loved, and wedded by a man of wealth and distinction; and she let herself be married off to a little clerk in the Ministry of Ecation. Her tastes were simple because she had never been able to afford any other, but she was as unhappy as though she had married beneath her; for women have no caste or class, their beauty, grace, and charm serving them for birth or family, their natural delicacy, their instinctive elegance, their nimbleness of wit, are their only mark of rank, and put the slum girl on a level with the highest lady in the land.
She suffered endlessly, feeling herself born for every delicacy and luxury. She suffered from the poorness of her house, from its mean walls, worn chairs, and ugly curtains. All these things, of which other women of her class would not even have been aware, tormented and insulted her. The sight of the little Breton girl who came to do the work in her little house aroused heart-broken regrets and hopeless dreams in her mind. She imagined silent antechambers, heavy with Oriental tapestries, lit by torches in lofty bronze sockets, with two tall footmen in knee-breeches sleeping in large arm-chairs, overcome by the heavy warmth of the stove. She imagined vast saloons hung with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments, and small, charming, perfumed rooms, created just for little parties of intimate friends, men who were famous and sought after, whose homage roused every other woman's envious longings.
When she sat down for dinner at the round table covered with a three-days-old cloth, opposite her husband, who took the cover off the soup-tureen, exclaiming delightedly: "Aha! Scotch broth! What could be better?" she imagined delicate meals, gleaming silver, tapestries peopling the walls with folk of a past age and strange birds in faery forests; she imagined delicate food served in marvellous dishes, murmured gallantries, listened to with an inscrutable smile as one trifled with the rosy flesh of trout or wings of asparagus chicken.
She had no clothes, no jewels, nothing. And these were the only things she loved; she felt that she was made for them. She had longed so eagerly to charm, to be desired, to be wildly attractive and sought after.

< 2 >

She had a rich friend, an old school friend whom she refused to visit, because she suffered so keenly when she returned home. She would weep whole days, with grief, regret, despair, and misery.

*

One evening her husband came home with an exultant air, holding a large envelope in his hand.
"Here's something for you," he said.
Swiftly she tore the paper and drew out a printed card on which were these words:
"The Minister of Ecation and Madame Ramponneau request the pleasure of the company of Monsieur and Madame Loisel at the Ministry on the evening of Monday, January the 18th."
Instead of being delighted, as her husband hoped, she flung the invitation petulantly across the table, murmuring:
"What do you want me to do with this?"
"Why, darling, I thought you'd be pleased. You never go out, and this is a great occasion. I had tremendous trouble to get it. Every one wants one; it's very select, and very few go to the clerks. You'll see all the really big people there."
She looked at him out of furious eyes, and said impatiently: "And what do you suppose I am to wear at such an affair?"
He had not thought about it; he stammered:
"Why, the dress you go to the theatre in. It looks very nice, to me . . ."
He stopped, stupefied and utterly at a loss when he saw that his wife was beginning to cry. Two large tears ran slowly down from the corners of her eyes towards the corners of her mouth.
"What's the matter with you? What's the matter with you?" he faltered.
But with a violent effort she overcame her grief and replied in a calm voice, wiping her wet cheeks:
"Nothing. Only I haven't a dress and so I can't go to this party. Give your invitation to some friend of yours whose wife will be turned out better than I shall."
He was heart-broken.
"Look here, Mathilde," he persisted. "What would be the cost of a suitable dress, which you could use on other occasions as well, something very simple?"
She thought for several seconds, reckoning up prices and also wondering for how large a sum she could ask without bringing upon herself an immediate refusal and an exclamation of horror from the careful-minded clerk.

< 3 >

At last she replied with some hesitation:
"I don't know exactly, but I think I could do it on four hundred francs."
He grew slightly pale, for this was exactly the amount he had been saving for a gun, intending to get a little shooting next summer on the plain of Nanterre with some friends who went lark-shooting there on Sundays.
Nevertheless he said: "Very well. I'll give you four hundred francs. But try and get a really nice dress with the money."
The day of the party drew near, and Madame Loisel seemed sad, uneasy and anxious. Her dress was ready, however. One evening her husband said to her:
"What's the matter with you? You've been very odd for the last three days."
"I'm utterly miserable at not having any jewels, not a single stone, to wear," she replied. "I shall look absolutely no one. I would almost rather not go to the party."
"Wear flowers," he said. "They're very smart at this time of the year. For ten francs you could get two or three gorgeous roses."
She was not convinced.
"No . . . there's nothing so humiliating as looking poor in the middle of a lot of rich women."
"How stupid you are!" exclaimed her husband. "Go and see Madame Forestier and ask her to lend you some jewels. You know her quite well enough for that."
She uttered a cry of delight.
"That's true. I never thought of it."
Next day she went to see her friend and told her her trouble.
Madame Forestier went to her dressing-table, took up a large box, brought it to Madame Loisel, opened it, and said:
"Choose, my dear."
First she saw some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a Venetian cross in gold and gems, of exquisite workmanship. She tried the effect of the jewels before the mirror, hesitating, unable to make up her mind to leave them, to give them up. She kept on asking:
"Haven't you anything else?"
"Yes. Look for yourself. I don't know what you would like best."
Suddenly she discovered, in a black satin case, a superb diamond necklace; her heart began to beat covetously. Her hands trembled as she lifted it. She fastened it round her neck, upon her high dress, and remained in ecstasy at sight of herself.

< 4 >

Then, with hesitation, she asked in anguish:
"Could you lend me this, just this alone?"
"Yes, of course."
She flung herself on her friend's breast, embraced her frenziedly, and went away with her treasure. The day of the party arrived. Madame Loisel was a success. She was the prettiest woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling, and quite above herself with happiness. All the men stared at her, inquired her name, and asked to be introced to her. All the Under-Secretaries of State were eager to waltz with her. The Minister noticed her.
She danced madly, ecstatically, drunk with pleasure, with no thought for anything, in the triumph of her beauty, in the pride of her success, in a cloud of happiness made up of this universal homage and admiration, of the desires she had aroused, of the completeness of a victory so dear to her feminine heart.
She left about four o'clock in the morning. Since midnight her husband had been dozing in a deserted little room, in company with three other men whose wives were having a good time. He threw over her shoulders the garments he had brought for them to go home in, modest everyday clothes, whose poverty clashed with the beauty of the ball-dress. She was conscious of this and was anxious to hurry away, so that she should not be noticed by the other women putting on their costly furs.
Loisel restrained her.
"Wait a little. You'll catch cold in the open. I'm going to fetch a cab."
But she did not listen to him and rapidly descended the staircase. When they were out in the street they could not find a cab; they began to look for one, shouting at the drivers whom they saw passing in the distance.
They walked down towards the Seine, desperate and shivering. At last they found on the quay one of those old nightprowling carriages which are only to be seen in Paris after dark, as though they were ashamed of their shabbiness in the daylight.
It brought them to their door in the Rue des Martyrs, and sadly they walked up to their own apartment. It was the end, for her. As for him, he was thinking that he must be at the office at ten.
She took off the garments in which she had wrapped her shoulders, so as to see herself in all her glory before the mirror. But suddenly she uttered a cry. The necklace was no longer round her neck!

< 5 >

"What's the matter with you?" asked her husband, already half undressed.
She turned towards him in the utmost distress.
"I . . . I . . . I've no longer got Madame Forestier's necklace. . . ."
He started with astonishment.
"What! . . . Impossible!"
They searched in the folds of her dress, in the folds of the coat, in the pockets, everywhere. They could not find it.
"Are you sure that you still had it on when you came away from the ball?" he asked.
"Yes, I touched it in the hall at the Ministry."
"But if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it fall."
"Yes. Probably we should. Did you take the number of the cab?"
"No. You didn't notice it, did you?"
"No."
They stared at one another, mbfounded. At last Loisel put on his clothes again.
"I'll go over all the ground we walked," he said, "and see if I can't find it."
And he went out. She remained in her evening clothes, lacking strength to get into bed, huddled on a chair, without volition or power of thought.
Her husband returned about seven. He had found nothing.
He went to the police station, to the newspapers, to offer a reward, to the cab companies, everywhere that a ray of hope impelled him.
She waited all day long, in the same state of bewilderment at this fearful catastrophe.
Loisel came home at night, his face lined and pale; he had discovered nothing.
"You must write to your friend," he said, "and tell her that you've broken the clasp of her necklace and are getting it mended. That will give us time to look about us."
She wrote at his dictation.

*

By the end of a week they had lost all hope.
Loisel, who had aged five years, declared:
"We must see about replacing the diamonds."
Next day they took the box which had held the necklace and went to the jewellers whose name was inside. He consulted his books.
"It was not I who sold this necklace, Madame; I must have merely supplied the clasp."
Then they went from jeweller to jeweller, searching for another necklace like the first, consulting their memories, both ill with remorse and anguish of mind.
In a shop at the Palais-Royal they found a string of diamonds which seemed to them exactly like the one they were looking for. It was worth forty thousand francs. They were allowed to have it for thirty-six thousand.

< 6 >

They begged the jeweller not to sell it for three days. And they arranged matters on the understanding that it would be taken back for thirty-four thousand francs, if the first one were found before the end of February.
Loisel possessed eighteen thousand francs left to him by his father. He intended to borrow the rest.
He did borrow it, getting a thousand from one man, five hundred from another, five louis here, three louis there. He gave notes of hand, entered into ruinous agreements, did business with usurers and the whole tribe of money-lenders. He mortgaged the whole remaining years of his existence, risked his signature without even knowing if he could honour it, and, appalled at the agonising face of the future, at the black misery about to fall upon him, at the prospect of every possible physical privation and moral torture, he went to get the new necklace and put down upon the jeweller's counter thirty-six thousand francs.
When Madame Loisel took back the necklace to Madame Forestier, the latter said to her in a chilly voice:
"You ought to have brought it back sooner; I might have needed it."
She did not, as her friend had feared, open the case. If she had noticed the substitution, what would she have thought? What would she have said? Would she not have taken her for a thief?

*

Madame Loisel came to know the ghastly life of abject poverty. From the very first she played her part heroically. This fearful debt must be paid off. She would pay it. The servant was dismissed. They changed their flat; they took a garret under the roof.
She came to know the heavy work of the house, the hateful ties of the kitchen. She washed the plates, wearing out her pink nails on the coarse pottery and the bottoms of pans. She washed the dirty linen, the shirts and dish-cloths, and hung them out to dry on a string; every morning she took the stbin down into the street and carried up the water, stopping on each landing to get her breath. And, clad like a poor woman, she went to the fruiterer, to the grocer, to the butcher, a basket on her arm, haggling, insulted, fighting for every wretched halfpenny of her money.
Every month notes had to be paid off, others renewed, time gained.

< 7 >

Her husband worked in the evenings at putting straight a merchant's accounts, and often at night he did ing at twopence-halfpenny a page.
And this life lasted ten years.
At the end of ten years everything was paid off, everything, the usurer's charges and the accumulation of superimposed interest.
Madame Loisel looked old now. She had become like all the other strong, hard, coarse women of poor households. Her hair was badly done, her skirts were awry, her hands were red. She spoke in a shrill voice, and the water slopped all over the floor when she scrubbed it. But sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she sat down by the window and thought of that evening long ago, of the ball at which she had been so beautiful and so much admired.
What would have happened if she had never lost those jewels. Who knows? Who knows? How strange life is, how fickle! How little is needed to ruin or to save!
One Sunday, as she had gone for a walk along the Champs-Elysees to freshen herself after the labours of the week, she caught sight suddenly of a woman who was taking a child out for a walk. It was Madame Forestier, still young, still beautiful, still attractive.
Madame Loisel was conscious of some emotion. Should she speak to her? Yes, certainly. And now that she had paid, she would tell her all. Why not?
She went up to her.
"Good morning, Jeanne."
The other did not recognise her, and was surprised at being thus familiarly addressed by a poor woman.
"But . . . Madame . . ." she stammered. "I don't know . . . you must be making a mistake."
"No . . . I am Mathilde Loisel."
Her friend uttered a cry.
"Oh! . . . my poor Mathilde, how you have changed! . . ."
"Yes, I've had some hard times since I saw you last; and many sorrows . . . and all on your account."
"On my account! . . . How was that?"
"You remember the diamond necklace you lent me for the ball at the Ministry?"
"Yes. Well?"
"Well, I lost it."
"How could you? Why, you brought it back."
"I brought you another one just like it. And for the last ten years we have been paying for it. You realise it wasn't easy for us; we had no money. . . . Well, it's paid for at last, and I'm glad indeed."

< 8 >

Madame Forestier had halted.
"You say you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?"
"Yes. You hadn't noticed it? They were very much alike."
And she smiled in proud and innocent happiness.
Madame Forestier, deeply moved, took her two hands.
"Oh, my poor Mathilde! But mine was imitation. It was worth at the very most five hundred francs! . . . "

『叁』 莫泊桑写的短篇小说有哪些

莫泊桑的短篇小说代表作： 《漂亮朋友》、《羊脂球》、《项链》、《我的叔叔于勒》 莫泊桑，一生创作了6部长篇小说和359篇中短篇小说，及三部游记。与契诃夫和欧·亨利合称“世界三大短篇小说之王”。

『肆』 《莫泊桑中短篇小说选》都有哪些小说内容（二）

莫泊桑，世界著名的短篇小说作家。他继承了福楼拜、巴尔扎克、司汤达等现实主义大师的写实传统，同时又追随左拉等自然主义先驱人物，在不到10年的时间里，创作了300多篇脍炙人口的短篇小说，其中数十篇成为流芳百世的传世之作，是世界文学史上最著名的短篇小说大师之一。莫泊桑用传神之笔刻画了法国上下各阶层的人物，每一个人物都凝结着作者的心血，寄托着作者的渴望。法国文学家左拉在谈到莫泊桑的短篇小说时说：“谁敢说获得不朽的不可能是一篇300行的小说，是未来世纪的小学生们当做无懈可击的完美的典范、口口相传的寓言或者故事呢？”他的预言今天已得到了验证。

莫泊桑短篇小说的主题大致可归纳为三个方面：第一是讽刺小资产阶级、小市民的虚荣心和拜金主义，如《项链》、《我的叔叔于勒》；《项链》是莫泊桑举世闻名的短篇小说。故事讲述了巴黎一个小公务员的妻子，因为爱慕虚荣，为了参加一次舞会，向朋友借来一串钻石项链。结果项链不幸被弄丢了。为了赔偿这串项链，夫妻两人开始了10年艰辛的生活。当10年后，他们终于还清了所有借债时，才得知当初借来的那串项链是假的。小说在嘲讽中深含着作者对小人物的同情之心。《我的叔叔于勒》通过一对小资产阶级夫妇对亲兄弟的势利态度，表现了资产阶级人与人之间赤裸裸的金钱关系。

第二是对资产阶级上流社会的批判和讽刺。在很多篇章里，莫泊桑都揭露了所谓体面人物的丑态。如他的成名作《羊脂球》。这篇小说以普法战争为背景，讲述一个地位卑微却富有爱国主义精神的妓女为了解救同行的旅客，不得不忍受屈辱，但却遭到那些旅客的蔑视。小说生动地再现了资产者和上流女人虚伪自私的面目，表现出那些道貌岸然的资产者肮脏的内心世界。在《一个儿子》中，地位尊贵的上议员与法兰西学院院士竟厚颜无耻地说，“在18岁到40岁这段时期，如把那些短暂的遇合、一小时的接触计算在内，我们完全可以说，我们和两三百个女人有过亲密关系”。

第三是描写普法战争，反映法国人民的爱国情绪，这类作品在莫泊桑的短篇小说创作中占有重要地位。如《两个朋友》写了两个热衷垂钓的平民横遭普鲁士侵略军屠杀，而普鲁士军官却表现得“安详”、“平静”，以此抨击侵略战争。还有讴歌抗击侵略者的爱国主义精神的《米隆老爹》、《决斗》、《蛮大妈》等。

莫泊桑短篇小说布局结构的精巧。典型细节的选用、叙事抒情的手法以及行云流水般的自然文笔，都给后世作家提供了楷模。

『伍』 莫泊桑的短篇小说有哪些

莫泊桑(1850～1893)是19世纪后半叶法国优秀的批判现实主义作家，是世界著名的短篇小说巨匠。1879年的《羊脂球》震惊文坛，使莫泊桑成为法国文学界的一颗耀目的新星。

莫泊桑

《羊脂球》是世界文学宝库中的珍品之一，它以普法战争为背景，把各阶层的典型人物“浓缩”到一辆马车上。马车从敌军占领的卢昂出发，匆匆向法军据守的地方撤退。中途经过普军占领的小镇，敌军官蛮横无耻地要求绰号叫“羊脂球”的妓女陪他过夜，否则全车人都要扣留。于是，戏剧场面展开了：一伙道貌岸然、自命高贵的贵族老爷、工业家、商人、政客和修女为了保全自己，用尽威逼、恳求、哄骗等手段，请“羊脂球”顺从普军官的无耻要求。“羊脂球”为了保全这些“同胞”，只好蒙受奇耻大辱。事过之后，车子又前进了。不料，这些“高贵”的旅伴突然面孔大变，对“羊脂球”倍加轻蔑和唾弃，以示自身的“高洁”。该小说通过形象对照，无情揭露了伪君子的丑恶面目，其批判力量甚至使一些长篇巨著也难以相提并论。

莫泊桑在短短10年左右的时间里，写出350多篇中短篇小说，其中很多都成为脍炙人口的佳作。此外，他还写了6部长篇小说，其中最著名的是《漂亮的朋友》(即《俊友》)和《一生》。莫泊桑对后世的影响是深远的，他的优秀短篇被世界各国文学工作者奉为楷模。

『陆』 莫泊桑的短篇小说是如何分类的各类有哪些主要作品

1、反映普法战争的：在这类题材的作品里，莫泊桑揭露了普鲁士侵略者的残暴与野蛮；法国军队的无能，歌颂了法国人民不畏强暴反抗侵略者的爱国精神如《羊脂球》、《米隆老爹》、《两个朋友》等。

2、描写资产阶级世俗生活，揭露资产阶级道德堕落的，如《项链》、《戴家楼》，表现世人贪图钱财而不注重亲情的《我的叔叔于勒》，描写小市民吝啬的《雨伞》等。

3、反映劳动人民生活的贫困痛苦以及优秀品质的，如《西蒙的爸爸》、《一个女长工的故事》等。

表现形式：

莫泊桑是炉火纯青的技艺的掌握者。他不拘成法，不恪守某种既定的规则，而是自由自在地运用各种方式与手法。在描述对象上，有时是一个完整的故事，有时是事件的某个片段，有时是某个图景，有时是一段心理活动与精神状态。

既有故事性强的，也有情节淡化的甚至根本没有情节的，既有人物众多的，也有人物单一的，甚至还有根本没有人物的。在描述的时序上，有顺叙，有倒叙，有插叙。

在描述的角度上，有客观描述的，也有主观描述的，有时描述者与事件保持了时空的距离，有时描述者则又是事件的参与者，有时描述者有明确的身份，有时则又身份不明。

在莫泊桑的短篇里，描述方法的多样化与富于变化，无疑是他以前的短篇小说作家所未具备的。他大大丰富了短篇小说的描述方式，提高了叙述艺术的水平，为后来的短篇小说创作开辟了更为广阔的道路。

『柒』 莫泊桑简介及代表作品 莫泊桑的作品有哪些

1、居伊·德·莫泊桑（Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant，1850年8月5日—1893年7月6日），19世纪后半叶法国优秀的批判现实主义作家，与俄国契诃夫和美国欧·亨利并称为“世界三大短篇小说巨匠”，其中莫泊桑被誉为“世界短篇小说之王”。他一生创作了六部长篇小说、三百五十九篇中短篇小说及三部游记，是法国文学史上短篇小说创作数量最大、成就最高的作家。

2、莫泊桑1850年出生于法国上诺曼府滨海塞纳省的一个没落贵族家庭。曾参加普法战争，此经历成为他日后创作小说的一个重要主题。莫泊桑患有神经痛和强烈的偏头痛，巨大的劳动强度，使他逐渐病入膏肓。直到1891年，他已不能再进行写作。在遭受疾病残酷的折磨之后，莫泊桑于1893年7月6日逝世，年仅43岁。

3、代表作品：《羊脂球》、《俊友》《项链》《一生》《温泉》。

『捌』 急需莫泊桑《项链》英语全文

SHE was one of those pretty and charming girls, born by a blunder of destiny in a family of employees. She had no dowry, no expectations, no means of being known, understood, loved, married by a man rich and distinguished; and she let them make a match for her with a little clerk in the Department of Ecation.
She was simple since she could not be adorned; but she was unhappy as though kept out of her own class; for women have no caste and no descent, their beauty, their grace, and their charm serving them instead of birth and fortune. Their native keenness, their instinctive elegance, their flexibility of mind, are their only hierarchy; and these make the daughters of the people the equals of the most lofty dames. 2
She suffered intensely, feeling herself born for every delicacy and every luxury. She suffered from the poverty of her dwelling, from the worn walls, the abraded chairs, the ugliness of the stuffs. All these things, which another woman of her caste would not even have noticed, tortured her and made her indignant. The sight of the little girl from Brittany who did her humble housework awoke in her desolated regrets and distracted dreams. She let her mind dwell on the quiet vestibules, hung with Oriental tapestries, lighted by tall lamps of bronze, and on the two tall footmen in knee breeches who dozed in the large armchairs, made drowsy by the heat of the furnace. She let her mind dwell on the large parlors, decked with old silk, with their delicate furniture, supporting precious bric-a-brac, and on the coquettish little rooms, perfumed, prepared for the five o’clock chat with the most intimate friends, men well known and sought after, whose attentions all women envied and desired.
When she sat down to dine, before a tablecloth three days old, in front of her husband, who lifted the cover of the tureen, declaring with an air of satisfaction, “Ah, the good pot-au-feu. I don’t know anything better than that,” she was thinking of delicate repasts, with glittering silver, with tapestries peopling the walls with ancient figures and with strange birds in a fairy-like forest; she was thinking of exquisite dishes, served in marvelous platters, of compliment whispered and heard with a sphinx-like smile, while she was eating the rosy flesh of a trout or the wings of a quail.
She had no dresses, no jewelry, nothing. And she loved nothing else; she felt herself made for that only. She would so much have liked to please, to be envied, to be sective and sought after.
She had a rich friend, a comrade of her convent days, whom she did not want to go and see any more, so much did she suffer as she came away. And she wept all day long, from chagrin, from regret, from despair, and from distress.
But one evening her husband came in with a proud air, holding in his hand a large envelope.
“There,” said he, “there’s something for you.”
She quickly tore the paper and took out of it a printed card which bore these words:
“The Minister of Ecation and Mme. Georges Rampouneau beg M. and Mme. Loisel to do them the honor to pass the evening with them at the palace of the Ministry, on Monday, January .”
Instead of being delighted, as her husband hoped, she threw the invitation on the table with annoyance, murmuring
“What do you want me to do with that?”
“But, my dear, I thought you would be pleased. You never go out, and here’s a chance, a fine one. I had the hardest work to get it. Everybody is after them; they are greatly sought for and not many are given to the clerks. You will see there all the official world.”
She looked at him with an irritated eye and she declared with impatience:
“What do you want me to put on my back to go there?”
He had not thought of that; he hesitated:
“But the dress in which you go to the theater. That looks very well to me”
He shut up, astonished and distracted at seeing that his wife was weeping. Two big tears were descending slowly from the corners of the eyes to the corners of the mouth. He stuttered:
What’s the matter? What’s the matter?”
But by a violent effort she had conquered her trouble, and she replied in a calm voice as she wiped her damp cheeks:
“Nothing. Only I have no clothes, and in consequence I cannot go to this party. Give your card to some colleague whose wife has a better outfit than I.”
He was disconsolate. He began again:
“See here, Mathilde, how much would this cost, a proper dress, which would do on other occasions; something very simple?”
She reflected a few seconds, going over her calculations, and thinking also of the sum which she might ask without meeting an immediate refusal and a frightened exclamation from the frugal clerk.
“At last, she answered hesitatingly:
“I don’t know exactly, but it seems to me that with four hundred francs I might do it.”
He grew a little pale, for he was reserving just that sum to buy a gun and treat himself to a little shooting, the next summer, on the plain of Nanterre, with some friends who used to shoot larks there on Sundays.
But he said:
“All right. I will give you four hundred francs. But take care to have a pretty dress.”
The day of the party drew near, and Mme. Loisel seemed sad, restless, anxious. Yet her dress was ready. One evening her husband said to her:
“What’s the matter? Come, now, you have been quite queer these last three days.”
And she answered:
“It annoys me not to have a jewel, not a single stone, to put on. I shall look like distress. I would almost rather not go to this party.”
He answered:
“You will wear some natural flowers. They are very stylish this time of the year. For ten francs you will have two or three magnificent roses.”
But she was not convinced.
“No; there’s nothing more humiliating than to look poor among a lot of rich women.”
But her husband cried:
“What a goose you are! Go find your friend, Mme. Forester, and ask her to lend you some jewelry. You know her well enough to do that.”
She gave a cry of joy
“That’s true. I had not thought of it.”
The next day she went to her friend’s and told her about her distress.
Me. Forester went to her mirrored wardrobe, took out a large casket, brought it, opened it, and said to Mme. Loisel:

『玖』 求莫泊桑《项链》 英文原版（急用）！！！

Necklace

The girl was one of those pretty and charming young creatures who sometimes are born, as if by a slip of fate, into a family of clerks. She had no dowry, no expectations, no way of being known, understood, loved, married by any rich and distinguished man; so she let herself be married to a little clerk of the Ministry of Public Instruction.

She dressed plainly because she could not dress well, but she was unhappy as if she had really fallen from a higher station; since with women there is neither caste nor rank, for beauty, grace and charm take the place of family and birth. Natural ingenuity, instinct for what is elegant, a supple mind are their sole hierarchy, and often make of women of the people the equals of the very greatest ladies.

Mathilde suffered ceaselessly, feeling herself born to enjoy all delicacies and all luxuries. She was distressed at the poverty of her dwelling, at the bareness of the walls, at the shabby chairs, the ugliness of the curtains. All those things, of which another woman of her rank would never even have been conscious, tortured her and made her angry. The sight of the little Breton peasant who did her humble housework aroused in her despairing regrets and bewildering 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. Every one 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."

He was in despair. He resumed:

"Come, let us see, Mathilde. How much would it cost, a suitable gown, which you could use on other occasions--something very simple?"

She reflected several seconds, making her calculations and wondering also what sum she could ask without drawing on herself an immediate refusal and a frightened exclamation from the economical clerk.

Finally she replied hesitating:

"I don't know exactly, but I think I could manage it with four hundred francs."

He grew a little pale, because he was laying aside just that amount to buy a gun and treat himself to a little shooting next summer on the plain of Nanterre, with several friends who went to shoot larks there of a Sunday.

But he said:

"Very well. I will give you four hundred francs. And try to have a pretty gown."

The day of the ball drew near and Madame Loisel seemed sad, uneasy, anxious. Her frock was ready, however. Her husband said to her one evening:

"What is the matter? Come, you have seemed very queer these last three days."

And she answered:

"It annoys me not to have a single piece of jewelry, not a single ornament, nothing to put on. I shall look poverty-stricken. I would almost rather not go at all."

"You might wear natural flowers," said her husband. "They're very stylish at this time of year. For ten francs you can get two or three magnificent roses."

She was not convinced.

"No; there's nothing more humiliating than to look poor among other women who are rich."

"How stupid you are!" her husband cried. "Go look up your friend, Madame Forestier, and ask her to lend you some jewels. You're intimate enough with her to do that."

She uttered a cry of joy:

"True! I never thought of it."

The next day she went to her friend and told her of her distress.

Madame Forestier went to a wardrobe with a mirror, took out a large jewel box, brought it back, opened it and said to Madame Loisel:

"Choose, my dear."

She saw first some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a Venetian gold cross set with precious stones, of admirable workmanship. She tried on the ornaments before the mirror, hesitated and could not make up her mind to part with them, to give them back. She kept asking:

"Haven't you any more?"

"Why, yes. Look further; I don't know what you like."

Suddenly she discovered, in a black satin box, a superb diamond necklace, and her heart throbbed with an immoderate desire. Her hands trembled as she took it. She fastened it round her throat, outside her high-necked waist, and was lost in ecstasy at her reflection in the mirror.

Then she asked, hesitating, filled with anxious doubt:

"Will you lend me this, only this?"

"Why, yes, certainly."

She threw her arms round her friend's neck, kissed her passionately, then fled with her treasure.

The night of the ball arrived. Madame Loisel was a great success. She was prettier than any other woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling and wild with joy. All the men looked at her, asked her name, sought to be introced. All the attaches of the Cabinet wished to waltz with her. She was remarked by the minister himself.

She danced with rapture, with passion, intoxicated by pleasure, forgetting all in the triumph of her beauty, in the glory of her success, in a sort of cloud of happiness comprised of all this homage, admiration, these awakened desires and of that sense of triumph which is so sweet to woman's heart.

She left the ball about four o'clock in the morning. Her husband had been sleeping since midnight in a little deserted anteroom with three other gentlemen whose wives were enjoying the ball.

He threw over her shoulders the wraps he had brought, the modest wraps of common life, the poverty of which contrasted with the elegance of the ball dress. She felt this and wished to escape so as not to be remarked by the other women, who were enveloping themselves in costly furs.

Loisel held her back, saying: "Wait a bit. You will catch cold outside. I will call a cab."

But she did not listen to him and rapidly descended the stairs. When they reached the street they could not find a carriage and began to look for one, shouting after the cabmen passing at a distance.

They went toward the Seine in despair, shivering with cold. At last they found on the quay one of those ancient night cabs which, as though they were ashamed to show their shabbiness ring the day, are never seen round Paris until after dark.

It took them to their dwelling in the Rue des Martyrs, and sadly they mounted the stairs to their flat. All was ended for her. As to him, he reflected that he must be at the ministry at ten o'clock that morning.

She removed her wraps before the glass so as to see herself once more in all her glory. But suddenly she uttered a cry. She no longer had the necklace around her neck!

"What is the matter with you?" demanded her husband, already half undressed.

She turned distractedly toward him.

"I have--I have--I've lost Madame Forestier's necklace," she cried.

He stood up, bewildered.

"What!--how? Impossible!"

They looked among the folds of her skirt, of her cloak, in her pockets, everywhere, but did not find it.

"You're sure you had it on when you left the ball?" he asked.

"Yes, I felt it in the vestibule of the minister's house."

"But if you had lost it in the street we should have heard it fall. It must be in the cab."

"Yes, probably. Did you take his number?"

"No. And you--didn't you notice it?"

"No."

They looked, thunderstruck, at each other. At last Loisel put on his clothes.

"I shall go back on foot," said he, "over the whole route, to see whether I can find it."

He went out. She sat waiting on a chair in her ball dress, without strength to go to bed, overwhelmed, without any fire, without a thought.

Her husband returned about seven o'clock. He had found nothing.

He went to police headquarters, to the newspaper offices to offer a reward; he went to the cab companies--everywhere, in fact, whither he was urged by the least spark of hope.

She waited all day, in the same condition of mad fear before this terrible calamity.

Loisel returned at night with a hollow, pale face. He had discovered nothing.

"You must write to your friend," said he, "that you have broken the clasp of her necklace and that you are having it mended. That will give us time to turn round."

She wrote at his dictation.

At the end of a week they had lost all hope. Loisel, who had aged five years, declared:

"We must consider how to replace that ornament."

The next day they took the box that had contained it and went to the jeweler whose name was found within. He consulted his books.

"It was not I, madame, who sold that necklace; I must simply have furnished the case."

Then they went from jeweler to jeweler, searching for a necklace like the other, trying to recall it, both sick with chagrin and grief.

They found, in a shop at the Palais Royal, a string of diamonds that seemed to them exactly like the one they had lost. It was worth forty thousand francs. They could have it for thirty-six.

So they begged the jeweler not to sell it for three days yet. And they made a bargain that he should buy it back for thirty-four thousand francs, in case they should find the lost necklace before the end of February.

Loisel possessed eighteen thousand francs which his father had left him. He would borrow the rest.

He did borrow, asking a thousand francs of one, five hundred of another, five louis here, three louis there. He gave notes, took up ruinous obligations, dealt with usurers and all the race of lenders. He compromised all the rest of his life, risked signing a note without even knowing whether he could meet it; and, frightened by the trouble yet to come, by the black misery that was about to fall upon him, by the prospect of all the physical privations and moral tortures that he was to suffer, he went to get the new necklace, laying upon the jeweler's counter thirty-six thousand francs.

When Madame Loisel took back the necklace Madame Forestier said to her with a chilly manner:

"You should have returned it sooner; I might have needed it."

She did not open the case, as her friend had so much feared. If she had detected the substitution, what would she have thought, what would she have said? Would she not have taken Madame Loisel for a thief?

Thereafter Madame Loisel knew the horrible existence of the needy. She bore her part, however, with sudden heroism. That dreadful debt must be paid. She would pay it. They dismissed their servant; they changed their lodgings; they rented a garret under the roof.

She came to know what heavy housework meant and the odious cares of the kitchen. She washed the dishes, using her dainty fingers and rosy nails on greasy pots and pans. She washed the soiled linen, the shirts and the dishcloths, which she dried upon a line; she carried the slops down to the street every morning and carried up the water, stopping for breath at every landing. And dressed like a woman of the people, she went to the fruiterer, the grocer, the butcher, a basket on her arm, bargaining, meeting with impertinence, defending her miserable money, sou by sou.

Every month they had to meet some notes, renew others, obtain more time.

Her husband worked evenings, making up a tradesman's accounts, and late at night he often copied manuscript for five sous a page.

This life lasted ten years.

At the end of ten years they had paid everything, everything, with the rates of usury and the accumulations of the compound interest.

Madame Loisel looked old now. She had become the woman of impoverished households--strong and hard and rough. With frowsy hair, skirts askew and red hands, she talked loud while washing the floor with great swishes of water. But sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she sat down near the window and she thought of that gay evening of long ago, of that ball where she had been so beautiful and so admired.

What would have happened if she had not lost that necklace? Who knows? who knows? How strange and changeful is life! How small a thing is needed to make or ruin us!

But one Sunday, having gone to take a walk in the Champs Elysees to refresh herself after the labors of the week, she suddenly perceived a woman who was leading a child. It was Madame Forestier, still young, still beautiful, still charming.

Madame Loisel felt moved. Should she speak to her? Yes, certainly. And now that she had paid, she would tell her all about it. Why not?

She went up.

"Good-day, Jeanne."

The other, astonished to be familiarly addressed by this plain good-wife, did not recognize her at all and stammered:

"But--madame!--I do not know--You must have mistaken."

"No. I am Mathilde Loisel."

Her friend uttered a cry.

"Oh, my poor Mathilde! How you are changed!"

"Yes, I have had a pretty hard life, since I last saw you, and great poverty--and that because of you!"

"Of me! How so?"

"Do you remember that diamond necklace you lent me to wear at the ministerial ball?"

"Yes. Well?"

"Well, I lost it."

"What do you mean? You brought it back."

"I brought you back another exactly like it. And it has taken us ten years to pay for it. You can understand that it was not easy for us, for us who had nothing. At last it is ended, and I am very glad."

Madame Forestier had stopped.

"You say that you bought a necklace of diamonds to replace mine?"

"Yes. You never noticed it, then! They were very similar."

And she smiled with a joy that was at once proud and ingenuous.

Madame Forestier, deeply moved, took her hands.

"Oh, my poor Mathilde! Why, my necklace was paste! It was worth at most only five hundred francs!"

『拾』 莫泊桑的短篇小说代表作有哪些

泊桑的三百五十多中短篇小说从题材内容大致可分为以下几个方面：

1.反映普法战争的：在这类题材的作品里，莫泊桑揭露了普鲁士侵略者的残暴与野蛮；法国军队的无能，歌颂了法国人民不畏强暴反抗侵略者的爱国精神如《羊脂球》(1880)、《米隆老爹》(1883)（必读）、《两个朋友》(1883)等。《羊脂球》是写被敌军占领的里昂城里十几位居民同乘一辆马车出逃的故事。一辆马车就是一个社会的缩影。作者通过乘客们出逃的不同原因，一路上的表现，特别是对羊脂球前后不同态度的变化，表现了他们不同的社会身份和性格特征。

2.描写资产阶级世俗生活，揭露资产阶级道德堕落的，如《项链》(1884)、《戴家楼》(1881)，表现世人贪图钱财而不注重亲情的《我的叔叔于勒》(1883)，描写小市民吝啬的《雨伞》(1884)等。

3.反映劳动人民生活的贫困痛苦以及优秀品质的，如《西蒙的爸爸》(1881)、《一个女长工的故事》(1881)等。