What's the Name of That Book??? discussion
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Collected Short Stories
SOLVED: Adult Fiction
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SOLVED. Short story (Maupassant or Maugham?) about an opera singer [s]
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Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
Short stories are hard. Any idea when it might have been published or in what format/source you might have gotten it from?
Yes, like I said, I'm pretty sure it was a late 19th/early 20th century story by Maupassant or Maugham. I'm almost positive it was Maugham, actually. I read it in Russian maybe eight-nine years ago. Short stories are hard. Maybe I'll just go to the library and browse their complete works for it.
Is it "The Necklace"? That's one of Maupassant's most famous stories.
No, not The Necklace, but that is a great story, I agree. No, I'm sure I'm remembering the plot accurately.
Bumping this up to the top in the hopes someone has an answer for Maria.
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the narrator finds himself sharing a cabin with an unctuous, conceited Levantine. But at dinner at the captain's table, when the Levantine compliments a wife on her magnificent necklace and the husband tells him it's just a fake, he can't resist pointing out the husband's error, until he catches the imploring look in the wife's eye. He guesses the story behind the necklace (adultery), and does what Maugham has already allowed us to see, in just a few pages, will be the hardest thing for him: namely, climb down and pretend that he believes the jewels to be fake.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2004/...
Another summary:
W. Somerset Maugham: Mr Know-all
This is also an old story, much anthologised.
This setting is a shipboard. There is an assortment of travellers cruising from the US to Japan. Among them is Kaleda, a fellow who brags that he knows everything and that he can never be wrong.
The narrator dislikes him for his breezy manners and for his cocksureness.
There is the inevitable cardgame and during one session Kaleda bets that the pearl necklace that an Ambassador’s wife was wearing was of high quality. This is disputed by the diplomat who says it is an imitation jewellery.
Kaleda discloses that he is in pearl business and ought to know. He then bets an amount and asks the lady to unfasten and give the necklace for him to examine.
http://cgrishikesh.wordpress.com/2009...
No mention of an opera singer, however.
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No response in 2 years. Moving to Abandoned.
Maugham did have a short story about a man falling for an opera singer, but I can't remember the title or the details. Try finding his collected short stories online and searching in them.
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The aging primadonna, La Falterona, tells several stories about jewelry given to her by her lovers:
“He was broke. He had the impudence to ask me to give him back a diamond necklace he’d given me. He said it had belonged to his mother.”
“It wouldn’t have hurt you to give it him,” said Miss Glaser. “You never wear it.”
“Give it him back?” cried La Falterona, and her astonishment was such that she spoke the purest English. “Give it him back? You’re crazy.”
****
The story of the emerald ring was this: La Falterona was having a passionate love-affair with the Crown Prince of a powerful state and he had made her a present of an emerald of immense value. One night they had a quarrel, high words passed, and some reference being made to the ring she tore it off her finger and flung it in the fire. The Crown Prince, being a man of thrifty habit, with a cry of consternation, threw himself on his knees and began raking out the coals till he recovered the ring. La Falterona watched him scornfully as he grovelled on the floor. She didn’t give much away herself, but she could not bear economy in others. She finished the story with these splendid words:
“After that I couldn’t love him.”
****
“Pearls?” She gave that brilliant smile of hers. “Have I ever told you about Benjy Riesenbaum and the pearls? You might make a story out of it.”
Benjy Riesenbaum was a person of great wealth, but it was common knowledge that for a long time he had been the Falterona’s lover. In fact it was he who had bought her the luxurious little villa in which we were now sitting.
“He’d given me a very handsome string in New York. I was singing at the Metropolitan, and at the end of the season we travelled back to Europe together. You never knew him, did you?”
“No.”
“Well, he wasn’t bad in some ways, but he was insanely jealous. We had a row on the boat because a young Italian officer was paying me a good deal of attention. Heaven knows, I’m the easiest woman in the world to get on with, but I will not be bullied by any man. After all, I have my self-respect to think of. I told him where he got off, if you understand what I mean, and he slapped my face. On deck if you please. I don’t mind telling you I was mad. I tore the string of pearls off my neck and flung it in the sea. ‘They cost fifty thousand dollars,’ he gasped. He went white. I drew myself up to my full height. ‘I only valued them because I loved you,’ I said. And I turned on my heel.”
At the end of the story, she sings:
There was no reply, but in a moment Miss Glaser began to play the opening bars of one of Schumann’s songs. It was no strain on the voice, and I guessed that Miss Glaser knew what she was doing when she chose it. La Falterona began to sing, in an undertone, but as she heard the sounds come from her lips and found that they were clear and pure she let herself go. The song finished. There was silence. Miss Glaser had heard that La Falterona was in magnificent voice, and she sensed that she wished to sing again. The prima donna was standing in the window, with her back to the lighted room, and she looked out at the darkly shining sea. The cedar made a lovely pattern against the sky. The night was soft and balmy. Miss Glaser played a couple of bars. A cold shiver ran down my spine. La Falterona gave a little start as she recognized the music, and I felt her gather herself together:
Mild und leise wie er lachelt
Wie das Auge er offnet.
It was Isolde’s death song. She had never sung in Wagner, fearing the strain on her voice, but this, I suppose, she had often sung in concerts. It did not matter now that instead of an orchestral accompaniment she had only the thin tinkle of a piano. The notes of the heavenly melody fell upon the still air and travelled over the water. In that too romantic scene, in that starry night, the effect was shattering. La Falterona’s voice, even now, was exquisite in its quality, mellow and crystalline; and she sang with wonderful emotion, so tenderly, with such tragic, beautiful anguish that my heart melted within me. I had a most awkward lump in my throat when she finished, and looking at her I saw that tears were streaming down her face. I did not want to speak. She stood quite still looking out at that ageless sea.
What a strange woman! I thought then that I would sooner have her as she was, with her monstrous faults, than as Peter Melrose saw her, a pattern of all the virtues. But then people blame me because I rather like people who are a little worse than is reasonable. She was hateful, of course, but she was irresistible.
I think it was written by either Maupassant or Maugham. I've made a few google searches but haven't found anything. Help?