Mathilde was one of those pretty, charming girls who are born, as if through a mistake of fate, into poor families. She had no wealth, no hopes, no way of finding a rich and distinguished husband, and so she had no choice but to agree to marry a little clerk in the Ministry of Public Education.

Her tastes should have been simple, because she had never possessed very much, and yet she was as unhappy as if she had once been rich and had lost everything. She felt in her heart that she had been born for luxury, and she suffered bitterly from the misery of her life. She hated the dirty walls, the worn-out furniture, and the faded curtains in her home. Most other women in her station in life would not have noticed these things, but they made her miserable and angry. She spent hours dreaming of quiet elegant rooms hung with paintings, lighted by lamps in silver holders, where she would be waited upon by servants in expensive uniforms. She often imagined herself in a great drawing room, conversing with clever, important, and famous people. The walls would be covered with silk, the graceful furniture would be made of rare and costly woods, and there would be perfume in the air.

At dinner, seated at her plain round table, with a cloth that had not been changed for three days, as she faced her dull husband and heard him say, "Ah! Beef stew! There's nothing better than that in the whole world!" she would dream of rare and delicious food, delightful dinner parties, heavy silver shining softly in the lamplight against snow-white linen, and admiring words whispered in her ear by the handsome man sitting beside her.

She had no fine clothes, no jewels. And yet she lived for nothing else! Her only desire was to be beautiful, to be admired, to be loved.

She had a rich friend, Madame Forestier, whom she had known since their school days together. She did not visit her friend's beautiful apartment very often, however, because her own home looked even poorer when she got back to it. She would weep for days after seeing her more fortunate friend.

One evening her husband came in, proudly showing her a large envelope that he was holding in his hand.

"Here," he said, "it's a surprise for you."

She eagerly tore open the envelope, took out a stiff piece of heavy paper with a printed message on it, and read these words: "The Minister of Public Education and Madame Georges Ramponneau beg Monsieur and Madame Loisel to do them the honor of spending the evening at the Ministry on Monday, the eighteenth of January."

Instead of being delighted, as her husband had hoped, she threw the invitation down on the table and said, "Well, what do you expect me to do with that?"

"Why, my dear, I thought you would be happy!" said her husband. "You never go out, and this is a wonderful opportunity. I had a terrible time getting the invitation; everybody wanted one, and they weren't giving out very many to the employees at the Ministry."

She looked at him angrily and said, in an impatient tone, "What on earth can I wear to a party like that?"

He had not thought about it. He stammered, "Why -well, -I don't know dear, but what about the dress your wear to the theater? It looks very nice to me-"

But he stopped when he saw that his wife was crying. "What's the matter? Why are you crying?" he asked.

She controlled her tears and said calmly, "I'm all right. It's just that I don't have an evening dress, and I can't go to the party. Give the invitation to somebody at the Ministry whose wife is better dressed than I am."

He was heartbroken. "Look, Mathilde," he said, "how much would a good dress cost? I mean a very simple one, you understand, something that you could use again."

She thought for a few seconds, quickly counting in her mind, wondering how much she could ask for without getting an immediate refusal from her husband, who did not like to spend money. At last she replied, with some hesitation, "Well, I don't know exactly, but I think I could get something nice for about four hundred francs."

He turned pale. He had saved exactly that amount of money and was planning to buy a gun to take on hunting trips the next summer with his friends. But he said, "Very well. I'll give you four hundred francs. Try to get a pretty dress."

The day of the party drew near, but Madame Loisel still seemed sad and anxious. Her husband asked her what was wrong.

She answered, "I don't have any jewels, not a single one. I am going to look poor. I would almost prefer not to go to the party."

"You can wear flowers," he said. "They are very fashionable at this time of the year. For ten francs you can have two or three beautiful roses."

She was not convinced, "No," she said, "there's nothing worse than to look poor among a lot of rich women."

Then her husband exclaimed: "Why, my dear, how stupid we are! Why don't you go to your friend Madame Forestier and ask her to lend you some jewels" You know her well enough for that, don't you?"

She uttered a cry of joy: "Yes, of course! You're right! I hadn't thought of it."

The next day she went to see her friend and told her about the problem.

Madame Forestier opened a large jewel box and said, "Choose, my dear."

Mathilde saw first some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a beautiful cross made of gold and jewels. She tried on all of them, but none of them seemed the right thing to wear with her new dress. She kept asking, "Have you got anything else?"

Then she opened a black silk case and found a splendid diamond necklace. Her hands shook as she lifted it. She put it around her neck. Even on the high neck of her everyday dress, she could see at once that it was the perfect ornament.

"Could you lend me this, just this one?"

"Of course, Mathilde," said her friend. "Take it." Mathilde kissed her gratefully and left with her treasure.

The evening of the party finally arrived, and Madame Loisel was the most beautiful woman there. All the men admired her, wanted to know who she was, asked to dance with her. The Minister himself noticed her. She danced every dance, thinking of nothing but her beauty, her popularity, the admiration of everyone in the room, and the thrill of having at last what she had wanted for so long.

It was about four o'clock in the morning when she consented to leave. Her husband had been sound asleep since midnight in a deserted little sitting room, along with three other men whose wives were still dancing. He put her coat over her shoulders. It was plain and ugly, very different from her party dress. She wanted to hurry away. Her husband said, "Wait here. You'll catch cold in the street. I'll get a cab."

But she did not listen to hum and ran quickly down the stairs. She did not want the other women, who were busy putting on their furs and expensive coats, to see what she was wearing. She and her husband went out on the street together and began to look for a carriage. They walked toward the river, shaking with cold. At last they found a dirty old cab, one of those that seem to appear only very late at night, as though they were ashamed to be out by day.

It took them to their door, and they walked sadly up the stairs to their apartment. Her dream was over. Her husband's only thought was that he would have to be at work at the usual hour in the morning.

She took off her coat in front of the mirror in order to see herself once more in all her beauty. Suddenly, she cried out. The necklace was no longer around her throat!

"What's the matter?" her husband asked.

"I -I -I've lost Madame Forestier's necklace!"

He stared in astonishment. "What? No! That's impossible!"

They searched the folds of her dress, the coat, everywhere. The necklace was not there.

"Are you sure you were still wearing it when we left the party?" asked Loisel.

"Yes," she said. "I touched it when I was in the hall."

"But if you had lost it in the street, we would have heard it fall," he said.

"Yes, probably," she said. "Did you notice the number of the cab?"

"No," he said, "I didn't. Did you?"

"No."

At last, Loisel put his coat back on. "I'll go over all the places we walked," he said, "and try to find it."

And he went out. She remained in her party dress, sitting lifelessly on a chair, without strength enough to think or to go to bed. At seven o'clock her husband returned. He had found nothing.

He went to the police and to the newspapers; he offered a reward to cab drivers; he tried everything he could possibly think of. Mathilde waited at home, too shocked to do anything at all. When at last he came in that night, his face pale and tired, he had to tell her that he had failed to find the necklace.

"You must write to your friend at once," he said, "and tell her that you've broken the catch of the necklace and are having it mended. That will give us time to look some more."

She did as he said.

At the end of a week, they had lost all hope. Loisel, who had aged five years during those seven days, said, "The only thing to do is to buy another necklace."

The next day they took the case that had held the necklace to the jeweler whose name was inside. He told them he had not made the necklace, but had only made catch for it. They had to go from one jeweler to another, searching for a necklace like the first one. At last they found a string of diamonds that appeared to be what they were looking for. Its price was forty thousand francs, but they were told that it could be bought for thirty-six thousand. They arranged to buy it, with the understanding that they might return it if the first necklace was found before the end of the month.

Loisel had eighteen thousand francs that his father had left him. He borrowed the rest, getting a thousand from one man, five hundred from another, entering into agreements with money lenders, signing away everything he would earn for the rest of his life. At last, terrified by the weight of his debts, he went to the jeweler's, laid down thirty-six thousand fracs on the counter, and took the necklace.

When Mathilde returned the necklace to its owner, Madame Forestier accepted it coldly and said, "You should have brought it back sooner. I might have needed it."

She did not open the case. Who knows what she would have thought if she had noticed that the jewels inside were different? What would she have said? Would she have called Mathilde a thief?

Madame Loisel faced the situation bravely. She knew what it was like to be poor. The horrible debt must be paid. She sent her servant away. They moved to a cheaper apartment, older and even uglier that the one they had. She washed the dishes and the pots herself. She washed the clothes and hung them out to dry. Every morning she walked down to the street and carried water back up to the top floor where they lived, stopping at each floor to get her breath. She went to the market, dressed in old clothes, fighting fiercely for every franc that could be saved.

They paid something every month. Each month they had to make a new debt in order to gain time. Loisel worked at night, adding up accounts for a merchant. He copied letters in order to earn a few francs. This life went on for ten years. At last, all their debts were paid. Everything -the interest, the double interest- everything was paid!

Mathilde Loisel looked like an old woman now. Her hair hung down, her hands were red. She had a loud, sharp voice. She was tough and hard, like the other women in the poor quarter where they lived. Sometimes, when her husband was at his office, she would sit by the window and remember that night long ago when she had danced until four o'clock in the morning and had been so beautiful and so happy. So different life would have been if she had not lost the necklace! What small things can make us happy or miserable!

One Sunday, as she was resting in the park, she saw a beautifully dressed woman walking with a little boy. Suddenly, Mathilde recognized her. It was her friend, Madame Forestier, still young, still pretty, still elegant. Should she speak to her? Why not? After all, the debt was paid, and the whole story could now be told.

"Hello, Jeanne," she said.

The other woman did not recognize her and was surprised at being addressed so familiarly by this poor stranger. "I'm sorry, madame, you must be making a mistake-"

"No, Jeanne, I'm not mistaken. I am Mathilde Loisel."

"Oh, my poor Mathilde," said the other woman. "How you've changed!"

"Well, I've had some hard times since I last saw you, and I've had a lot of grief - and all for your sake."

"For my sake? But how could that be?"

"Do you remember the diamond necklace you lent me to wear to the Minister's party ten years ago? Well, I lost it."

"Lost it? But that's impossible. You brought it back."

"I brought you another one just like it. And we've been paying for it all these years. It wasn't easy for us; we had no money. But it's paid for at last, and I'm glad."

Madame Forestier stood still. "You say you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?"

"Yes," said Mathilde. "You didn't notice the difference, did you? They were very much alike." And she smiled with simple pride.

Madame Firestier was deeply moved. She took Mathilde's two hands in hers and said, "Oh, my poor Mathilde! But my necklace was false! It was not worth more than five hundred francs at the most!"

	Criado por Jorge Sánchez aproximadamente 7 anos atrás

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Short Story (The Necklace) - Beginners