Retelling Story the Beggar

 

Name : Muhammad Husain Nur Faiz Assyifa.
NIM : 2109010001

 

Retelling Story

 

 

The Beggar 

By Guy de Maupassant 

 

 

Despite his misery and weakness, he has seen better days.When he was 15 years old, both his legs were hit by a carriage on his highway in Yerville. From then on he begged, crossing the courtyard along the path, balancing on crutches, raising his shoulders to his ears, his head seemingly sunk between two mountains.

The child, named Nicolas Toussaint, was raised in charity and remained out of all classes because the parish priest of Les Billettes found him in a ditch on his All Souls' Day. After a village baker forced him to drink a few glasses of schnapps, he became paralyzed in his legs. Since then he could only beg.

Previously, Baroness Davalley had allowed sleeping in an alcove full of straw next to the chicken coop on the farm under the ramparts. And on a bad day, she must have found a piece of bread and cider in her kitchen. He also often had an old lady throw a few sous at him on the stairs or out the window of her room. Now she was dead.

In the village they gave him little: they knew him well. During these 40 years of his life, they were sick of watching him carry his battered and crippled body from hut to hut in his two wooden joints. Still he didn't want to leave. For he knew nothing but these three or he four settlements in the corner of the world, which had dragged him a miserable life. He had set limits for his begging, and it never occurred to him to cross the limits he was accustomed not to cross.

He didn't know if the world was beyond the trees that had always restricted his vision. He never asked himself that. When the peasants were tired of always seeing him at the edges and ditches of their fields, they called out to him: "Instead of limping here forever, let's go to another village. He didn't. He answered and walked away, seized by a vague dread of the unknown, the terror of a poor fellow who feared a thousand things - a strange face, an insult, he and the suspicious look of people who know nothing about gendarmes. Walk down the street together and instinctively make him jump behind bushes or piles of crushed rock.

Watching from a distance their uniforms glistening in the sun, he suddenly discovered an astonishing agility, the agility of a monster trying to find a hiding place. , curled up into a ball, getting smaller and invisible, approaching the ground like a rabbit shape, mistaking the brown rag for the earth.

However, he never had a problem with the gendarmes. Yet he had that fear and that trick in his blood, as if he had inherited it from his parents, whom he didn't know.

He had no shelter, no roof of his own, no cover, no shelter. He slept everywhere in summer, slipped under barns and in stables in winter, and had an amazing address. He always sneaked out early in the morning before he was noticed. He knew all the holes he could get into the building. And the use of crutches after he left-Very strong, he could climb a haystack with only the strength of his wrists, and if he survived with enough food from the rounds, he would remain motionless for four or five days.

He lived among people like a forest animal, knew no one, loved no one, and renounced a kind of indifferent contempt and enmity only among the peasants. They called it "Bell". This is because it actually swayed like a bell between the stanchions, between two wooden stakes.

He hadn't eaten in two days. They gave him nothing. They finally wanted him out. The peasant women at the door cried out from afar when they saw him coming.

"Come out you bastards! I gave you bread just three days ago!

Going door to door, the women proclaimed:

 

"Okay, but we can't feed this lazy man all year round."

Still, the lazy had to eat every day.

He went around Saint-Hilaire, Yerville, and Les Billets without a penny of stale crust. His last hope was in Tournol. But he had to go two miles on a country road, and he was so exhausted, so empty as a pocket, that he could not walk any further. Nevertheless, he went his own way.

It was December. A cold wind blew across the fields and whistled between the bare branches. And the clouds galloped low and dark in the sky, and no one rushed anywhere. The crippled man walked slowly, and with painful effort he lifted the orthosis one by one, clenching the rest of the twisted leg.

Sometimes he sat on the edge of the ditch and rested for a few minutes. He has only one idea:

"Eat", but how, he did not know.

For three hours he struggled the long way. Then, seeing the trees of the village, he hastened his steps.

The first farmer whom he met and asked for alms answered him:

 

"Well, here we are again, you scoundrel! Aren't we going to get rid of you?

And the bell continued. They abused him door to door and sent him off with nothing. Despite this, he persevered and continued through the rounds. he didn't get it

Then he visited a farmhouse, stumbling on the ground, so soft in the rain that he could hardly lift his cane.Everywhere they hunted him. It was one of those cold, sad days when my heart was closed, my heart was angry, my soul was sad if I didn't open my hand to help and give.

After examining all the houses he knew, he went and threw himself into the corner of a dry ditch next to Maître-Tike's garden. He "unhooked," describing how people let him drop from his tall crutches and slip out from under his arms. And though he was motionless and starving for a long time, he was too animal to really delve into the depths of his immense misery.

He waited blindly with the vague expectations we always have. He waited in this corner of the courtyard, in the freezing wind, for the wondrous help we have always desired from heaven and man.

who will come A flock of black chickens passed by, looking for nourishment in the earth, all food. At any moment, snap your beak to pick up a seed or unseen insect and slowly and steadily resume your search.

"Bell" looked at her without thinking. Then it felt to him not in his brain but in his stomach, not the thought that one of these creatures roasted in a deadwood fire would be eaten. No suspicion occurred to him that he was going to steal. He took a rock within his reach and deftly threw it, killing the chicken that was closest. The creature fell on its side and flapped its wings. Others fled, balancing on thin legs. And "The Bell" returned to the crutches and resumed the game with chicken-like movements.

When he came to the side of a small black body whose head was stained with blood, he received a severe blow to his back, dropped his stick, and rolled ten paces in front of it. And Maître Xike angrily threw himself on the marauders and beat him with fists and knees all over his defenseless, crippled body like a madman or like a peasant being robbed.

The servants came in turn and began to beat the beggar with the master. Then, when they got tired, they picked him up and carried him away, locking him up in a wooden house while they brought in the gendarmes.

"Bell" fell to the ground, half dead, bleeding, torn from hunger. Evening, night and dawn. He hadn't eaten the whole time.

Around noon the gendarmes appeared and meticulously opened the door in the hope of resistance. For Maître Sikh pretended to be attacked by beggars and fought back with great difficulty.

The corporal exclaimed:

 

"Come on, get up!"

But "Bell" was no longer able to move. He tried; actually got up on a stick, but couldn't. Thinking it was a ruse or a ruse or the ugly temper of the villain, the two gunmen violently grabbed him and forced him onto his crutches.

The terror that a deer has for a hunter, and the terror that a mouse has for a cat, seized him. His superhuman effort allowed him to remain upright. "Forward!" said the corporal. he ran All the farm people were there to see him off. The women shook their fists. Men mocked him and insulted him.

He's finally caught! good release.

He disappeared between two guards. He found enough desperate energy to drag himself through the evening. He was treated so cruelly that he didn't even know what was happening to him, he was scared and incomprehensible.

The people they met stopped to watch him pass by, and the peasants muttered:

"That's a robbery!"

They arrived in the district capital in the evening. He never got there. He didn't even understand what was happening or what could happen.

All these terrible and unexpected things, these strange forms of people, these strange houses, unnerved him.

he didn't say a word. Because he could no longer understand anything. Besides, he had almost lost the use of his tongue because he had not spoken to anyone for years. And his thoughts were too confused for him to put into words.

They locked him up in the city jail. The gendarmes, not considering the fact that he needed food, left him until the next day. But when they came to check on him early in the morning, they found him dead on the ground.