The Old Wives' Tale

Excerpt

In the autumn of 1903 I used to dine frequently in a restaurant in
the Rue de Clichy, Paris.  Here were, among others, two waitresses
that attracted my attention.  One was a beautiful, pale young girl,
to whom I never spoke, for she was employed far away from the
table which I affected.  The other, a stout, middle-aged managing
Breton woman, had sole command over my table and me, and gradually
she began to assume such a maternal tone towards me that I saw I
should be compelled to leave that restaurant.  If I was absent for
a couple of nights running she would reproach me sharply:  “What!
you are unfaithful to me?” Once, when I complained about some
French beans, she informed me roundly that French beans were a
subject which I did not understand.  I then decided to be eternally
unfaithful to her, and I abandoned the restaurant.  A few nights
before the final parting an old woman came into the restaurant to
dine.  She was fat, shapeless, ugly, and grotesque.  She had a
ridiculous voice, and ridiculous gestures.  It was easy to see that
she lived alone, and that in the long lapse of years she had
developed the kind of peculiarity which induces guffaws among the
thoughtless.  She was burdened with a lot of small parcels, which
she kept dropping.  She chose one seat; and then, not liking it,
chose another; and then another.  In a few moments she had the
whole restaurant laughing at her.  That my middle-aged Breton
should laugh was indifferent to me, but I was pained to see a
coarse grimace of giggling on the pale face of the beautiful young
waitress to whom I had never spoken.