"The Necklace" Continuation

This is a continuation of "The Necklace" by Guy de Maupassant I wrote for English Class. The link is to a version of the story. The story was originally written in french, so each translated version is slightly different. My story picks up on the last sentence of "The Necklace". Enjoy!

http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/Neck.shtml

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Mme. Forestier, quite overcome, clasped her by the hands, “Oh, my poor Mathilde. But mine was only paste. Why, at most it was worth only five hundred francs!”

Mathilde’s voice was quiet and even. “Only five hundred francs?”

“I’m afraid so, Mathilde.” Mme. Forestier replied, choked with tears.

“I see.” Mathilde turned away from her friend, lost in deep thought. “I believe I must go now. I must tell my husband of this.”

“But Mathilde!” Mme. Forestier called after her, “You must let me help you!”

“I’m afraid,” Mathilde replied, voice cracking, “that it is too late for us. Besides, you can do nothing to ease my husband’s wrath when he learns the truth, or smooth the wrinkles in my aged face. Thank-you, but you can do nothing.” Mathilde surprised herself with how calm she sounded.

Mathilde’s heart clenched in fear as she walked away from her beloved friend. Her husband would be angry, more than angry, furious. Sweat dripped from her brow, stinging her eyes. Panic set into her mind, blinding her thoughts. Her eyes shut, blocking out the sun. She was lost in hopeless darkness, despair.

Only a moment later, she found herself slumped against the inside of the door to their cramped, slum attic home.

“My, dear,” said her husband, rising from his work at the table, “whatever is the matter?”

Mathilde began sobbing loud heavy wails that echoed through the slums. Shouts of accusation rung out from the lower rooms. “N..Necklace!” was all she managed to get out before another chorus of tears washed her away.

“Necklace? Dear, I told you, we paid it all off! Now tell me, what is the matter?” He led her to the table, cleared it of his documents, and seated her. The candlelight flickered as she huffed and puffed, trying to calm down. Shadows covered half of her husband’s old face.

“Necklace,” she repeated, almost hysterically. “Mme. Forestier. Only five hundred francs!”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand!” M.Loisel exclaimed. “Just tell me what is wrong!”

Talking faster than she ever had, Mathilde sputtered, “I just talked to Mme. Forestier and she said that the necklace was only paste, worth five hundred francs!”

M. Loisel paled, awestruck in disbelief. “Five hundred francs?” He slumped to the floor, eyes filled with a vacant expression. Mathilde leapt to her feet, afraid for her husband.

She could not see him breathing, could not feel his heart beating. His eyes misted over, turning gray in the faint light. Already the warmth had begun to leach out of his body, leaving his skin cold. A single tear fell from Mathilde’s cheek to land on his. “No.” she whispered, all hope gone. “He can’t be dead.”

Mathilde rose to her feet, knowing her life was over. Lingering one last moment to see her husband’s frail corpse crumpled on the floor, she turned her head aside and stepped out the door.

Her feet moved of their own accord. Tears blurred her vision as she remembered her former life. Now, too late, she knew that it had been perfect for her. In the plain apartment they shared with a comfortable income, she had been happy without realizing it. She hadn’t needed a fancy life to make her happy. “I wish, only wish,” she breathed, that I had found this out sooner.” She missed going to the theatre, enjoying the heart-wrenching plays of someone in a predicament much like hers. She recalled a specific performance; a lady had lost everything and she jumped to her death of a bridge into the dashing waters of a river below. “That’s it!” Mathilde took off down the rough cobblestone street, the few remaining minutes of her life filled with a new purpose.

The bridge rose into view, Mathilde ran to the apex and lunged over the low wall, tumbling into the icy waters of the Seine river. A glimpse of sunshine reached her eyes in that last second before hitting the water’s surface. Below the water, she breathed out immediately, not wanting to prolong her life. Bubbles floated to the surface, dancing. Excitement and adrenaline rushed through her icy veins. The frigid water blurred her thoughts. Her rough peasant dress floated up around her knees. Cold seeped into her body, water clogged her throat, and emotions confused her. Finally, she realized that even if she wanted to, she could not save her life now, no matter how hard she tried. Darkness enveloped her heart and her lungs burst as she suffocated at the bottom of the river.

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A few weeks later, the owner of the building where Mathilde and her husband lived came to collect the overdue money they owed him for rent. He was quite in a hurry, being a fine man who made his living charging exorbitant prices for slum apartments he had purchased years ago. While in a rush to be at an important meeting in time, he drummed his knuckles on the cracked and rotting door.“Where is my money?” he shouted angrily. The door creaked inwards ominously on one hinge. A blast of cold air hit him. It was dark, no heat or light came from the cramped attic. A dank smell emanated from the room. “Hello?” Stepping into the squished living quarters, he bumped into a table. “Is anyone here?” Pulling a match from his overcoat, he struck it against the unsanded table top and held it up.

At once he screamed and dropped the light, for the gray body of a man lay dead on the floor. The floor caught fire, and the flames licked towards the corpse, and toward the fine business man. The tongues of flame began eating at the table legs. Running from the apartment, the fine man called out, “Fire, fire! Bring water! Help!” By the time men came with water to save the building, it was too late.

The building collapsed, the corpse of M. Loisel burnt to ashes. As no one knew who his family was, they took a pail-full of the ashes from the building and sprinkled them over the Seine. Sinking to the depths of the river, they rested on the silt covered bottom, beside an undiscovered corpse in the darkness.