ntences, by the imperious rule
of the ballad, of the pantoum or the chant royal, Maupassant also desired
to write in metrical lines. However, he never liked this collection that
he often regretted having published. His encounters with prosody had left
him with that monotonous weariness that the horseman and the fencer feel
after a period in the riding school, or a bout with the foils.

Such, in very broad lines, is the story of Maupassant's literary
apprenticeship.

The day following the publication of "Boule de Suif," his reputation
began to grow rapidly. The quality of his story was unrivalled, but at
the same time it must be acknowledged that there were some who, for the
sake of discussion, desired to place a young reputation in opposition to
the triumphant brutality of Zola.

From this time on, Maupassant, at the solicitation of the entire press,
set to work and wrote story after story. His talent, free from all
influences, his individuality, are not disputed for a moment. With a
quick step, steady and alert, he advanced to fame, a fame of which he
himself was not aware, but which was so universal, that no contemporary
author during his life ever experienced the same. The "meteor" sent out
its light and its rays were prolonged without limit, in article after
article, volume on volume.

He was now rich and famous . . . . He is esteemed all the more as they
believe him to be rich and happy. But they do not know that this young
fellow with the sunburnt face, thick neck and salient muscles whom they
invariably compare to a young bull at liberty, and whose love affairs
they whisper, is ill, very ill. At the very moment that success came to
him, the malady that never afterwards left him came also, and, seated
motionless at his side, gazed at him with its threatening countenance. He
suffered from terrible headaches, followed by nights of insomnia. He had
nervous attacks, which he soothed with narcotics and anesthetics, which
he used freely. His sight, which had troubled him at intervals, became
affected, and a celebrated oculist spoke of abnormality, asymetry of the
pupils. The famous young man trembled in secret and was haunted by all
kinds of terrors.

The reader is charmed at the saneness of this revived art and yet, here
and there, he is surprised to discover, amid descriptions of nature that
are full of humanity, disquieting flights towards the supernatural,
distressing conjurations, veiled at first, of the most