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+ width: 124px; height: 120px; + margin: 0 .1em 0 0; + background: url("images/i307.jpg") no-repeat top left; + } + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Bovary, Volume 1 (of 2) +by Gustave Flaubert + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Madame Bovary + A Tale of Provincial Life, Volume 1 (of 2) + +Author: Gustave Flaubert + +Release Date: December 20, 2008 [EBook #27575] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME BOVARY *** + + + + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Henry Craig and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="notes"> +<p>Transcriber's Note: Amendments can be read by placing cursor over words with a dashed underscore like +<ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note">this</ins>.</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii"></a></span>MADAME BOVARY</h1> + +<p class="center"><i>A TALE OF PROVINCIAL LIFE</i></p> + +<p> </p> + +<h5>BY</h5> + +<h3>GUSTAVE FLAUBERT</h3> + +<p> </p> + +<h5>WITH A<br /> +CRITICAL INTRODUCTION<br /> +BY</h5> + +<h3>FERDINAND BRUNETIÈRE</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Of the French Academy</i></p> + +<h5>AND A<br /> +BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE<br /> +BY</h5> + +<h3>ROBERT ARNOT, M. A</h3> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><i>VOLUME I.</i></p> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>SIMON P. MAGEE,</h4> + +<h5>PUBLISHER,<br /> +CHICAGO, ILL.</h5> + +<h5><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv"></a></span><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1904, by</span><br /> +M. WALTER DUNNE<br /> +<i>Entered at Stationers' Hall, London</i></h5> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td></td><td></td><td class="tocpg f1">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td>PART I.</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#The_New_Boy">I.</a></td><td><a href="#The_New_Boy">The New Boy</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_001">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#A_Good_Patient">II.</a></td><td><a href="#A_Good_Patient">A Good Patient</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_013">13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#A_Lonely_Widower">III.</a></td><td><a href="#A_Lonely_Widower">A Lonely Widower</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_023">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Consolation">IV.</a></td><td><a href="#Consolation">Consolation</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_031">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#The_New_Menage">V.</a></td><td><a href="#The_New_Menage">The New Ménage</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_038">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#A_Maidens_Yearnings">VI.</a></td><td><a href="#A_Maidens_Yearnings">A Maiden's Yearnings</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_043">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Disillusion">VII.</a></td><td><a href="#Disillusion">Disillusion</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_050">50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Glimpses_Of_The_World">VIII.</a></td><td><a href="#Glimpses_Of_The_World">Glimpses Of The World</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_058">58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Idle_Dreams">IX.</a></td><td><a href="#Idle_Dreams">Idle Dreams</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_071">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td></td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td>PART II.</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#A_New_Field">I.</a></td><td><a href="#A_New_Field">A New Field</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_085">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#New_Friends">II.</a></td><td><a href="#New_Friends">New Friends</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_098">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Added_Cares">III.</a></td><td><a href="#Added_Cares">Added Cares</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Silent_Homage">IV.</a></td><td><a href="#Silent_Homage">Silent Homage</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Smothered_Flames">V.</a></td><td><a href="#Smothered_Flames">Smothered Flames</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Spiritual_Counsel">VI.</a></td><td><a href="#Spiritual_Counsel">Spiritual Counsel</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#A_Womans_Whims">VII.</a></td><td><a href="#A_Womans_Whims">A Woman's Whims</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span> +<a href="#A_Village_Festival">VIII.</a></td><td><a href="#A_Village_Festival">A Village Festival</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#A_Woodland_Idyll">IX.</a></td><td><a href="#A_Woodland_Idyll">A Woodland Idyll</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Lovers_Vows">X.</a></td><td><a href="#Lovers_Vows">Lovers' Vows</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#An_Experiment_And_A_Failure">XI.</a></td><td><a href="#An_Experiment_And_A_Failure">An Experiment And A Failure</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Preparations_For_Flight">XII.</a></td><td><a href="#Preparations_For_Flight">Preparations For Flight</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Deserted">XIII.</a></td><td><a href="#Deserted">Deserted</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#Religious_Fervor">XIV.</a></td><td><a href="#Religious_Fervor">Religious Fervor</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#A_New_Delight">XV.</a></td><td><a href="#A_New_Delight">A New Delight</a></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CRITICAL INTRODUCTION</h3> + +<p><i>Domi mansit, lanam fecit:</i> "He remained at home +and wrote," is the first thing that should be said of +Gustave Flaubert. This trait, which he shares with +many of the writers of his generation,—Renan, Taine, +Leconte de Lisle and Dumas <i>fils</i>,—distinguishes them +and distinguishes him from those of the preceding +generation, who voluntarily sought inspiration in disorder +and agitation,—Balzac and George Sand, for instance +(to speak only of romance writers), and the +elder Dumas or <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads Eugene without an accent">Eugène</ins> Sue. Flaubert, indeed, had +no "outward life;" he lived only for his art.</p> + +<p>A second trait of his character, and of his genius +as a writer, is that of seeing in his art only the art +itself—and art alone, without the mingling of any +vision of fortune or success. A competency,—which +he had inherited from the great surgeon, his father,—and +moderate tastes, infinitely more <i>bourgeois</i> than +his literature,—permitted him to shun the great +stumbling-block of the professional man of letters, +which, in our day, and doubtless in the United States +as well as in France, is the temptation to coin money +with the pen. Never was writer more disinterested +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span> +than Flaubert; and the story is that <i>Madame Bovary</i> +brought him 300 francs—in debts.</p> + +<p>A third trait, which helps not only to characterise +but to individualise him, is his subordination not only +of his own existence, but of life in general, to his +conception of art. It is not enough to say that he +lived for his art: he saw nothing in the world or in +life but material for that art,—<i>Hostis quid aliud quam +perpetua materia gloriæ?</i>—and if it be true that others +have died of their ambition, it could literally be said +of Flaubert that he was killed by his art.</p> + +<p>It is this point that I should like to bring out in +this Introduction,—where we need not speak of his +Norman origin, or (as his friend Ducamp has written +in his <i>Literary Souvenirs</i> with a disagreeable persistence, +and so uselessly!) of his nervousness and +epilepsy; of his loves or his friendships, but solely +of his work. We know, in fact, to-day, that if all +such details are made clear in the biography of a +great writer, in no way do they explain his work. +The author of <i>Gil Blas</i>, Alain René Lesage, was a +Breton, like the author of <i>Atala</i>; the Corneille brothers +had almost nothing in common. Of all our great +writers, the one nearest, perhaps, to Jean-Jacques +Rousseau, who died a victim to delirium from persecution, +was Madame Sand, who had, without doubt, +the sanest and best balanced temperament.</p> + +<p>Other writers have sought,—for instance, our +great classical authors, Pascal, Bossuet and perhaps +Corneille,—to influence the thought of their time; +some, like Molière, La Fontaine, and La Bruyère, to +correct customs. Others still,—such as our romantic +writers, Hugo or De Musset,—desired only to express +their personal conception of the world and of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span> +life. And then Balzac, whose object,—almost scientific,—was +to make a "natural history," a study and +description, of the social species, as an animal or +vegetable species is described in zoology or botany. +Gustave Flaubert attempted only to work out his art, +for and through the love of art. Very early in life, +as we clearly see from his correspondence, his consideration +for art was not even that of a social but +of a <i>sacred</i> function, in which the artist was the +priest. We hear sometimes, in metaphor and not +without irony, of the "priesthood" of the artist and +the "worship" of art. These expressions must be +taken literally in Flaubert's case. He was cloistered +in his art as a monk in his convent or by his discipline; +and he truly lived only in meditation upon +that art, as a Mystic in contemplation of the perfections +of his God. Nothing outside of art truly interested +him, neither science, nor things political or +religious, nor men, nor women, nor anything in the +world; and if, sometimes, it was his duty to occupy +himself with them, it was never in a degree greater +than could benefit his art. "The accidents of the +world"—this is his own expression—appeared to +him only as things permitted <i>for the sake of description</i>, +so much so that his own existence, even, +seemed to him to have no other excuse.</p> + +<p>It is that which explains the mixture of "romanticism," +"naturalism," and I will add, of "classicism"—which +has been pointed out more than once +in Flaubert's work. <i>Madame Bovary</i> is the masterpiece +of naturalistic romance and has not been surpassed +by the studies of Zola or the stories of De +Maupassant. On the other hand, there is nothing in +Hugo, even, more romantic than <i>The Temptation of</i> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span> +<i>Saint Antony</i>. But it is necessary to look for many +things in romanticism; and the romanticism of Hugo, +which was one of the delights of Flaubert, did not +resemble that of De Musset, (Lord de Musset, as +Flaubert called him) which he strongly disliked. +What he loved in romanticism was the "colour," +and nothing but the colour. He loved the romanticism +of the Orientals, of Hugo and Chateaubriand, +that plastic romanticism, whose object is to substitute +in literature "sensations of art" for the "expression +of ideas," or even of sentiments. It is precisely +here that naturalism and romanticism—or at least +French naturalism, which is very different from that +of the Russians or the English—join hands. In the +one case, as in the other, the attempt is made to +"represent"—as he himself puts it; and when one +represents nothing except the vulgar, the common, +the mediocre, the everyday, commonplace, or grotesque, +he is a "naturalist," like the author of <i>Madame +Bovary</i>; but one is a "romanticist" when, like +the author of <i>Salammbô</i>, he makes this world vanish, +and recreates a strange land filled with Byzantine or +Carthaginian civilization, with its barbaric luxury, its +splendour of corruption, immoderate appetites, and +monstrous deities.</p> + +<p>We have done wrong in considering Flaubert a +naturalist impeded by his romanticism, or a romanticist +impenitent, irritated with himself because of his +tendency to naturalism. He was both naturalist and +romanticist. And in both he was an artist, so much +of an artist (I say this without fear of contradiction) +that he saw nothing in his art but "representation," +the telling of the truth in all its depth and fidelity. +<i>Les Fileuses</i> and <i>La Reddition de Bréda</i> are always +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span> +by Velasquez; but the genius of the painter has nothing +in common with the subject he has chosen or the +circumstances that inspired him.</p> + +<p>From this source proceeds that insensibility in +Flaubert with which he has so often been reproached, +not without reason, and which divides his naturalism +from that of the author of <i>Adam Bede</i> or that of the +author of <i>Anna Karenina</i> by an abyss. Honest, as +a man, a good citizen, a good son, a good brother, +a good friend, Flaubert was indifferent, as an artist, +to all that did not belong to his art. "I believe that +it is necessary to love nothing," he has written somewhere, +and even underscored it—that is to say, it +is necessary to hover impartially above all objective +points. And, in fact, as nothing passed before his +eyes that he considered did not lie within the possibility +of representation, he made it a law unto himself +to look nothing in the face except from this point +of view.</p> + +<p>In this regard one may compare his attitude in +the presence of his model to that of his contemporaries, +Renan, for example, or Taine, in the presence +of the object of their studies. With them also critical +impartiality resembles not only indifference but +insensibility. Not only have they refused to confound +their emotions with their judgments, but their +judgments have no value in their eyes except as +they separate them from their emotions,—as they +emancipate themselves from them or even place themselves +in opposition to them. In like manner did +Flaubert. The first condition of an exact representation +of things is to dominate them; and in order to +dominate them, is it not necessary to begin by detaching +yourself from them? We see dimly through +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span> +tears, and we are too much absorbed in that which +gives us pleasure to be good judges of it. "An ideal +society would be one where each individual performed +his duty according to his ability. Now, then, I do +my duty as best I can; I am forsaken.... No +one pities my misfortunes; those of others occupy +their attention! I give to humanity what it gives to me—<i>indifference!</i>" +Is not the link between Flaubert's +"indifference" and his conception of art evident +here?</p> + +<p>But Flaubert said besides: "Living does not concern +me! It is only necessary to shun suffering." +Should we not change the name of this to "egotism" +or "insensibility?" We might, indeed, did we not +know that this egotism germinated in Flaubert as a +means of discipline. The object of this discipline +was to concentrate, for the profit of his art, those +qualities or forces which the ordinary man dissipates +in the pursuit of useless pleasures, or squanders in +intensity of life.</p> + +<p>We may take account at the same time of the +nature of his pessimism. For there are many ways +of being a pessimist, and Flaubert's was not at all +like that of Schopenhauer or Leopardi. His pessimism, +real and sincere, proceeded neither from personally +grievous experiences of life, as did that of the +recluse of Recanati, nor from a philosophic or logical +view of the conditions of existence in which humanity +is placed, like the pessimism of the Frankfort philosopher. +Flaubert was rather a victim of what +Théophile Gautier, in his well-known <i><ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: Émaux remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">Emaux</ins> et Camées</i>, +calls by the singularly happy name of "the +Luminous Spleen of the Orient." To tell the truth, +what Flaubert could not pardon in humanity was that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span> +it did not make enough of art, and so his pessimism +was a consequence of his æstheticism. "As lovers of +the beautiful," he tells us, "we are all outlaws! +Humanity hates us; we do not serve it; we hate it +because it wounds us! Let us love, then, in art, as +the Mystics love their God; and let all pale before +this love."</p> + +<p>These lines are dated 1853, before he had published +anything. Therefore, Flaubert did not express +himself thus because he was not successful. His +self-love was not in question! No one had yet criticised +or discussed him. But he felt that his ideal of +art, an art which he could not renounce, was opposed +to the ideal methods, if they are ideal, held by +his contemporaries; and the vision of the combats +that he must face at once exalted and exasperated +him. His pessimism was of the élite, or rather the +minority of one who feels himself, or at least believes +himself to be, superior, and who, knowing +well that he will always be in the minority, fears, +and rightly too, that he will not be recognised. It is +a form of pessimism less rare in our day than one +would think, and Taine, among others, said practically +the same thing when he averred that "one +writes only for one or two hundred people in Europe, +or in the world." It may be that this is too +individual a case! A more liberal estimate would be +that we write for all those who can comprehend us; +that style has for its first object the increase of such +a number; and, after that, if there still be those who +cannot comprehend us, no reason for despair exists +on our part or on theirs.</p> + +<p>Let us follow, now, the consequences of this +principle in Flaubert's work, and see successively all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span> +that his work means, and the dogma of art which +proceeds from it.</p> + +<p>At first you are tempted to believe that Flaubert's +work is diverse, though inconsiderable in volume; +and, primarily do not see clearly the threads which +unite the <i><ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: Éducation remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">Education</ins> Sentimentale</i> with the <i>Tentation +de Saint Antoine</i> or <i>Salammbô</i> with <i>Madame Bovary</i>.</p> + +<p>On the one side Christian Egypt, and on the other +the France of 1848, Madame Arnoux, Rosanette, and +Frederick Moreau, the Orleanist carnival, and the +"underwood" of Fontainebleau. Here, Carthage, +Hamilcar, Hannibal, Narr' Havas, the Numidian hero, +and Spendius, the Greek slave, the lions in bondage, +the pomegranate trees which they sprinkled with +silphium, the whole a strange and barbaric world; +then Charles Bovary, the chemist Homais, his son +<ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads "Napoleon" without an accent">Napoléon</ins> and his daughter Athalie, provincial life in +the time of the Second Empire; <i>bourgeois</i> adultery, +<i>diligences</i> and notaries' clerks. Then again Herodias, +Salome, Saint Jean-Baptiste, or Saint Julien l'Hospitalier, +the middle ages and antiquity,—all, at first sight, +seem far removed, one from the other. At first one +must admire, in such a contrast of subjects and +colors, the extraordinary skill, let us say the <i>virtuosité</i>, +of the artist. But, if we look more closely, we +shall not be slow to perceive that no work is more +homogeneous than that of Flaubert, and that, in +truth, the <i><ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: Éducation remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">Education</ins> Sentimentale</i>, differs from <i>Salammbô</i> +only as a Kermesse of Rubens, for example, +or a Bacchante of Poussin differs from the apotheoses +or the Church pictures of the painters themselves. +The making is the same, and you immediately recognise +the hand. The difference is in the choice of +subjects, which is of no importance, since Flaubert is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span> +only attempting to "represent" something, and in +the choice of material, when he is "representing," +he is no longer free. That is the reason why, if one +seek for lessons in "naturalism" in <i>Salammbô</i>, he +will find them, and will also find all the "romanticism" +he seeks in the <i><ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: Éducation remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">Education</ins> Sentimentale</i> and +in <i>Madame Bovary</i>.</p> + +<p>From the other lessons that flow from this work, +I find some in rhetoric, in art, in invention, in composition, +and two or three of great import, eloquent +in their bearing upon the history of contemporary +French literature.</p> + +<p>A master does not mingle or engage his personality +in his subject; but, as a God creates from the +height of his serenity, without passion, if without +love, so the poet or the artist expands the thing he +touches, and, on each occasion, brings to bear upon +it all the faculties that are his by toil but not innate. +Nothing is demanded of the workers, and they make +no confessions or confidences. Literature and art are +not, nor should be, the expression of men's emotions, +and still less the history of their lives. That is the +reason why, while from reading <i>René</i>, for example, +or <i>Fraziella</i>, <i>Delphine</i>, <i>Corinne</i>, <i>Adolphe</i>, <i>Indiana</i>, +<i>Volupté</i>, or some of the romances of Balzac—<i>La +Muse du <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: Département remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">Departement</ins></i>, or <i>Un Grand Homme de Province +à Paris</i>,—you could induct Balzac's entire psychology, +or Sainte-Beuve's, or Madame Sand's, +Benjamin Constant's, Madame de Staël's or Chateaubriand's, +you would find in <i>Madame Bovary</i> or <i>Salammbô</i> +nothing of Flaubert, except his temperament, +his taste, and his ideals as an artist. Let us suppose +another Flaubert, who did not live at Rouen, whose +life is not that related in his correspondence, who +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span> +was not the friend of Maxime Ducamp or of Louise +Colet, and the <i><ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: Éducation remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">Education</ins> Sentimentale</i> or the <i>Tentation +de Saint Antoine</i> would not be in the least different +from what they are now, nor should we see +one line of change to be made. This is a triumph in +objective art. "I do not wish to consider art as an +overflow of passion," he wrote once, a little brutally. +"I love my little niece as if she were my daughter, +and I am sufficiently active in her behalf to prove +that these are not empty phrases. But may I be +flayed alive rather than exploit that kind of thing in +style!" It has been but a short hundred years since, +as he expressed it, romanticism "exploited its emotions +in style," and made art from the heart.</p> + +<p>"Ah! strike upon the heart, 'tis there that genius +lies!" But, for a whole generation, <i>Madame Bovary</i>, +<i>Salammbô</i> and <i><ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: Éducation remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">Education</ins> Sentimentale</i> have been +teaching the contrary. "The author in his work +should be like God in the universe, everywhere present +but nowhere visible. Art being second nature, +the creator of this nature should act through analogous +procedure. He must be felt in each atom, under +every aspect, concealed but infinite; the effect upon +the spectator should be a kind of amazement." Furthermore, +he remarks that this principle was the core +of Greek art. I know not, or at least I do not recall, +whether he had observed (as he should, since +Anglo-Saxons have been quick to notice it) that this +"principle" underlies the art of Shakespeare.</p> + +<p>To realize this principle in work you must proceed +scientifically, and, in this connection, we may +notice that Flaubert's idea is that of Leconte de Lisle +in the preface to his <i>Poèmes Antiques</i>, and of Taine +in his lectures upon <i>L'Idéal dans l'art</i>.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span> +Romanticism had confounded the picturesque with +the anecdotal; character with accident; colour with +oddity. <i>Han d'Islande</i>, <i>Nôtre-Dame de Paris</i> and +some romances of Balzac, the first and poorest, not +signed with his name, may serve as an example. +The classic writers on their side, had not always distinguished +very profoundly the difference between the +general and the universal, the principal and the accessory, +the permanent and the superficial. We see +this in the French comedies of the eighteenth century, +even in some of Molière's—in his <i>L'Avare</i> and his +<i>Le Misanthrope</i>, for example. Flaubert believed that a +means of terminating this conflict is to be found in +method; and that is the reason why, if we confine +ourselves wholly to the consideration of the medium +in his works, we shall find the <i>Tentation de Saint +Antoine</i> entirely romantic; while, as a retaliation, +nothing is more classic than <i>Madame Bovary</i>.</p> + +<p>The reason for this is, that in his subject, whatever +it was, Carthaginian or low Norman, refined or +<i>bourgeois</i>, modern or antique, he saw only the subject +itself, with the eyes and after the manner of a +naturalist, who is concerned only in knowing thoroughly +the plant or the animal under observation. +There is no sentiment in botany or in chemistry, and +in them the desideratum is truth. Singleness of aim is +the primary virtue in a <i>savant</i>. Things are what they +are, and we demand of him that he show them to +us as they are. We accuse him of lying if he disguises, +weakens, alters or embellishes them.</p> + +<p>Likewise the artist! His function is ever to "represent:" +and in order to accomplish this, he should, +like the savant, mirror only the facts. After this, +what do the names "romanticism" or "classicism" +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[xx]</a></span> +signify? Their sole use is to indicate the side taken; +they are, so to speak, an acknowledgment that the +writer is adorning the occurrence he is about to represent. +He may make it more universal or more +characteristic than nature! But, inversely, if all art is +concentrated upon the representation, what matters +the subject? Is one animal or plant more interesting +than another to the naturalist? Does a name matter? +All demand the same attention. Art can make exception +in its subjects no more than science.</p> + +<p>If we ask in what consists the difference between +science and art, on this basis, Flaubert, with Leconte +de Lisle and with Taine, will tell us that it is in the +beauty which communicates prestige to the work, or +in the power of form.</p> + +<p>"What I have just written might be taken for +something of Paul de Kock's, had I not given it a +profoundly literary form," wrote Flaubert, while he +was at work on <i>Madame Bovary</i>; "but how, out of +trivial dialogue, produce style? Yet it is absolutely +necessary! It must be done!" He went further still, +and persuaded himself that style had a value in itself, +intrinsic and absolute, aside from the subject. In +fact, if the subject had no importance of its own, and +if there were no personal motives for choosing one +subject rather than another, what reason would there +be for writing <i>Madame Bovary</i> or <i>Salammbô</i>? One +alone: and that to "make something out of nothing," +to produce a work of art from things of no import. +For though everyone has some ideas, and everyone +has had experience in some kind of life, it is given +to few to be able to express their experience or their +ideas in terms of beauty. This, precisely, is the goal +of art.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</a></span> +Form, then, is the great preoccupation of the artist, +since, if he is an artist, it is through form, and +in the perfection or originality of that form, that his +triumph comes. Nothing stands out from the general +mediocrity except by means of form; nothing becomes +concrete, assuming immortality, save through form. +Form in art is queen and sovereign. Even truth +makes itself felt only through the attractiveness of +form. And further, we cannot part one from the +other; they are not opposed to each other; they are +at one; and art in every phase consists only in this +union. It is the end of art to give the superior life +of form to that which has it not; and finally, this +superior life of form, this magic wand of style, rhythmic +as verse and terse as science, by firmly establishing +the thing it touches, withdraws it from that law +of change, constant in its inconstancy, which is the +miserable condition of existence.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All passes; art in its strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone remains to all eternity;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The bust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Survives the city.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This it is that makes up the charm, the social +dignity, and the lasting grandeur of art.</p> + +<p>This is not the place to discuss the "æsthetic" +quality, and I shall content myself with indicating +briefly some of the objections it has called forth.</p> + +<p>Has form indeed all the importance in literature +that Flaubert claimed for it? And what importance +has it in sculpture, for example, or in painting? Let us +grant its necessity. Colour and line, which are, so to +speak, the primal elements in the alphabet of painting +and of sculpture, have not in themselves determined +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</a></span> +and precise significance. Yellow and red, +green and blue are only general and confused sensations. +But words express particular sentiments and +well-defined ideas, and have a value that does not +depend upon the form or the quality of the words. +You cannot, then, in using them, distinguish between +significance and form, or combine them independently +of the idea they are intended to convey, as is possible +with colours and with lines, solely for the beauty +that results from combination. If literary art is a +"representation," it is also something more; and the +lapse in Flaubert, as in all those who have followed +him in the letter, lies in having missed this distinction. +You cannot write merely to represent; you +write also to express ideas, to determine or to modify +convictions; you write that you may act, or impel +others to act: these are effects beyond the power of +painting or of sculpture. A statue or a picture never +brought about a revolution; a book, a pamphlet, nay, +a few fiery words, have overturned a dynasty.</p> + +<p>It is no longer true, as a whole generation of +writers has believed, that art and science may be +one and the same thing; or that the first, as Taine +has said, may be an "anticipation of the second." +We could not in the presence of our fellow-creatures +and their suffering affect the indifference of a naturalist +before the plant or the animal he is studying. +Whatever the nature of "human phenomena" may +be, we in our quality as man can only look at them +with human eyes, and could temptation make us +change our point of view, it would properly be called +inhuman.</p> + +<p>One might add that, if it is not certain that nature +was made for man, and if, for that reason, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</a></span> +science is wholly independent of conscience, as we +take it, it is otherwise with art. We know that +man was not made for art, but that art was made +for man. We forget each time we speak of "art for +art's sake" that there is need precisely to define the +meaning of the expression and to recall that but for +truth art could not have for its object the perfecting +of political institutions, the uplifting of the masses, +the correction of customs, the teachings of religion, +and that although this may lead finally to the realization +of beauty, it nevertheless remains the duty of +man, and consequently, is human in its origin, human +in its development, and human in its aim.</p> + +<p>Upon all these points, it is only necessary to think +sensibly, as also upon the question—which we have +not touched upon,—of knowing under what conditions, +in what sense, and in what degree the person +of the artist can or should remain foreign to his work.</p> + +<p>But a peculiarity of Flaubert's,—and one more +personal, which even most of the naturalists have not +shared with him, neither the Dutch in their paintings, +nor the English in the history of romance (the +author of <i>Tom Jones</i> or of <i>Clarissa Harlowe</i>), nor the +Russians, Tolstoi or Dostoiefski,—is to despise the +rôle of irony in art. "My personages are profoundly +repugnant to me," he wrote, <i>à propos</i> of <i>Madame +Bovary</i>. But they were not always repugnant to him, +at least not all of them, and, in verification of this, +we find that he has not for Spendius, Matho, Hamilcar, +and Hanno, the boundless scorn that he affects +for Homais or for Bournisien, for Bouvard or for +Pecuchet.</p> + +<p>We recognise here the particular and special form +of Flaubert's pessimism. That there could be people +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[xxiv]</a></span> +in the world, among his contemporaries, who were +not wholly absorbed and preoccupied with art, surpassed +his comprehension, and when this indifference +did not arouse an indignation which exasperated him +even to blows, it drew from him a scornful laughter +that one might call Homeric or Rabelaisian, since it +incited more to anger than to gaiety. And this is +the reason why <i>Madame Bovary</i>, <i><ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: Éducation remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">Education</ins> Sentimentale</i>, +<i>Un Cœur Simple</i>, and <i>Bouvard et Pecuchet</i> +would be more truly named were they called satires +and not representations.</p> + +<p>The exaggeration of the principle here recoils +upon itself. That disinterestedness, that impartiality, +that serenity which permitted him to "hover impartially +above all objects" deserted him. A satirist, or +to be more exact, a caricaturist, awoke within the +naturalist. He raged at his own characters. He +railed at them and mocked them. The interest of +the representation had undergone a change. He was +no longer in the attitude of mere fidelity to facts, but +in a state of scorn and violent derision. Homais and +Bournisien are no longer studies in themselves, but a +burden to Flaubert. His <i><ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: Éducation remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">Education</ins> Sentimentale</i>, in +spite of him, became, to use his own expression, an +overflow of rancour. In <i>Bouvard et Pecuchet</i> he +gave way to his hatred of humanity; here, as a +favour, and under the mask of irony, he brings himself +into his work, and, like a simple Madame Sand, +or a vulgar De Musset, we perceive Flaubert himself, +bull-necked and ruddy, with the moustaches of a +Gallic chief, agonizing at each turn in the romance.</p> + +<p>It is not necessary to exaggerate Flaubert's influence. +In his time there were ten other writers, +none of whom equalled him,—Parnassians in poetry, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[xxv]</a></span> +positivists in criticism, realists in romance or in +dramatic writing,—who laboured at the same work. +His æstheticism is not his alone, yet <i>Madame Bovary</i> +and <i>Salammbô</i> shot like unexpected meteors out of a +grey sky, the dull, low sky of the Second Empire. +In 1860 the sky was not so grey or so low; and the +<i>Poèmes Antiques</i> of Leconte de Lisle, the <i>Études +d'histoire religieuse</i> of Renan, and the <i>Essais de Critique</i> +of Taine, are possibly not unworthy to be +placed in parallel or comparison with the first writings +of Flaubert. An exquisite judge of things of the +mind, J. J. Weiss, very clearly saw at that time what +there was in common in all these works, in the +glory of which he was not deceived when he added +the <i>Fleurs du Mai</i> by Charles Baudelaire, and the +first comedies of Alexandre Dumas <i>fils</i>. But the +truth is, not one of these works was marked with +signs of masterly maturity in like degree with <i>Madame +Bovary</i>.</p> + +<p>It is, then, natural that, from day to day, Flaubert +should become a guide, and here, if we consider the +nature of the lessons he gives, we cannot deny their +towering excellence.</p> + +<p>If there was need to agitate against romanticism, +<i>Madame Bovary</i> performed the duty; and if in this +agitation there was need to save what was worth +salvation, <i>Salammbô</i> saved it. If it was fitting to recall +to poets and to writers of romance, to Madame +Sand herself and Victor Hugo, that art was not invented +as a public carrier for their confidences, it is +still Flaubert who does it. He taught the school of +hasty writers that talent, or even genius, is in need +of discipline,—the discipline of a long and painful +prenticehood in the making and unmaking of their +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[xxvi]</a></span> +work. He has widened, and especially has he hollowed +and deepened, the notion that romanticism +was born of nature, and, in doing this, has brought +art back to the fountain-head of inspiration. His +rhetoric and æstheticism brought him face to face +with Nature, enabled him to see her, a gift as rare as +it is great, and to "represent" her—the proof of the +preceding. It is the artist that judges the model. +Poets and romance-writers, like painters, we value +only in as much as they represent life—by and for +the fidelity, the originality, the novelty, the depth, +the distinction, the perfection with which they represent +it. It is the rule of rules, the principle of principles! +And if Flaubert had no other merit than to +have seen this better than any other writer of his +age, it would be enough to assure for him a place, +and a very exalted place, in the Pantheon of French +Literature.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 266px;"> +<img src="images/i022.jpg" width="266" height="100" alt="Signature: F. Brunetière" title="Signature: F. Brunetière" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[xxvii]</a></span></p> + +<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE</h3> + +<p>Gustave Flaubert was born at Rouen, December +12, 1821. His father was a physician, who later became +chief surgeon in the Hôtel Dieu of that city, and +his mother, Anne-Justine-Carline Fleuriot, was of +Norman extraction.</p> + +<p>Fourth of a family of six children, as a child Flaubert +exhibited marked fondness for stories, and, with +his favourite sister, Caroline, would invent them for +pastime. As a youth, he was exceedingly handsome, +tall, broad-shouldered and athletic, of independent +turn of mind, fond of study, and caring little for the +luxuries of life. He attended the college of Rouen, +but showed no marked characteristic save a pronounced +taste for history. After graduating, he went +to Paris to read law, at the École de Droit. At this +time disease, the nature of which he always endeavored +to conceal from the world, attacked him and +compelled a return to Rouen. The complaint, as revealed +after his death by Maxime Ducamp, was epilepsy, +and the constant fear of suffering an attack in +public led Flaubert to live the life of a recluse.</p> + +<p>The death of his father occurring at this critical +period, Flaubert abandoned the study of law, which +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxviii" id="Page_xxviii">[xxviii]</a></span> +he had begun only in obedience to the formally expressed +wish of his family. Having a comfortable income, +he turned his thoughts to literature, and from +that time all other work was distasteful. He read and +wrote incessantly, although at this period he never +completed anything. Among his papers were found +several fragments written between his eighteenth and +twentieth years. Some bear the stamp of his individuality, +if not in the substance, which is romantic,—at +least in the form, which is peculiarly lucid and concise,—for +instance, the slight, romantic, autobiographic +sketch entitled <i>Novembre</i>.</p> + +<p>Flaubert wrote neither for money nor for fame. +To him, art was religion, and to it he sacrificed his +life. Perfection of style was his goal; and unremitting +devotion to his ideal slew him. That he was +never satisfied with what he wrote, his letters show; +and all who knew him marvelled at his laborious and +pathetic application to his work. He settled first in +Croisset, near Rouen, with his family, but shortly afterwards +went to Brittany with Maxime Ducamp. On +his return he planned <i>La Tentation de Saint Antoine</i>, +which grew out of a fragmentary sketch entitled +<i>Smarh</i> (a mediæval Mystery, the manuscript +tells us), written in early youth. <i>La Tentation</i> +proved a source of labor, for he never ceased revising +it until it appeared in book form in 1874. In 1847, +he wrote a modern play, entitled <i>Le Candidat</i>, produced +in 1874 at the Vaudeville. It was not his first +dramatic effort, as he had already written a sort of +lyric fairy-play, <i>Le Château des Cœurs</i>, which was +published in his <i>Œuvres Posthumes</i>.</p> + +<p>In 1849 Flaubert visited Greece, Egypt, and Syria, +again accompanied by his friend Maxime Ducamp. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxix" id="Page_xxix">[xxix]</a></span> +After his return he planned a book of impressions +similar to <i>Par les Champs et par les Grèves</i>, which +was the result of the trip to Brittany; but the beginning +only was achieved. Still he gathered many data +for his future great novel, <i>Salammbô</i>. The year 1851 +found him back in Croisset, working at <i>La Tentation +de Saint Antoine</i>, which he dropped suddenly, when +half finished, for an entirely different subject—<i>Madame +Bovary</i>, a novel of provincial life, published first +in 1857 in the <i>Revue de Paris</i>. For this Flaubert +was prosecuted, on the charge of offending against +public morals, but was acquitted after the remarkable +defense offered by Maître Senard.</p> + +<p>Flaubert's fame dates from <i>Madame Bovary</i>, which +was much discussed by press and public. Many, including +his friend, Maxime Ducamp, condemned it, but +Sainte-Beuve gave it his decisive and courageous approval. +It was generally considered, however, as the +starting point of a new phase in letters, frankly realistic, +and intent on understanding and expressing +everything. Such success might have influenced Flaubert's +artistic inclinations but did not, for while <i>Madame +Bovary</i> was appearing in the <i>Revue de Paris</i>, +the <i>Artiste</i> was publishing fragments of <i>La Tentation +de Saint Antoine</i>.</p> + +<p>In 1858 Flaubert went to Tunis, visited the site of +ancient Carthage, and four years afterwards wrote +<i>Salammbô</i>, a marvellous reconstitution, more than half +intuitive, of a civilisation practically unrecorded in +history. This extraordinary book did not call forth +the enthusiasm that greeted <i>Madame Bovary</i>. Flaubert, +in whom correctness of detail was a passion, +was condemned, even by Sainte-Beuve, for choosing +from all history a civilisation of which so little is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxx" id="Page_xxx">[xxx]</a></span> +known. The author replied, and a lengthy controversy +ensued, but it was not a subject that could be +settled definitely in one way or another.</p> + +<p>In <i><ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: L'Éducation remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">L'Education</ins> Sentimentale, roman d'un jeune +homme</i>, published in 1869, Flaubert returns momentarily +to the style which brought him such rapid and +deserved celebrity. In 1877 appeared <i>Trois Contes</i>, +three short stories written in the impersonal style of +<i>Salammbô</i>, contrasting strangely with <i>La <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: Légende remains as it appears in the original, without an accent">Legende</ins> de +Saint Julien l'Hospitalier</i> and <i>Herodias</i>, wherein Flaubert +shows himself supreme in the art of word-painting.</p> + +<p>Death came to him on May 8, 1880, as he was +writing the last chapters of a new work, <i>Bouvard et +Pecuchet</i>, which was published in part after he died +and later appeared in book form (1881).</p> + +<p>At the age of twenty-five, Flaubert met the only +woman who in any way entered his sentimental life. +She was an author, the wife of Lucien Colet, and the +"Madame X" of the Correspondence. Their friendship +lasted eight years and ended unpleasantly, Flaubert +being too absorbed by his worship for art to let +passion sway him.</p> + +<p>He remained unmarried because his love for his +mother and family made calls upon him that he +would not neglect. He was indifferent to women, +treated them with paternal indulgence, and often +avowed that "woman is the undoing of the just." +Yet a warm friendship existed between him and +George Sand, and many of his letters are addressed +to her, touching upon various questions in art, literature, +and politics.</p> + +<p>The misanthropy which haunted Flaubert, of which +so much has been said, was not innate, but was acquired +through the constant contemplation of human +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxi" id="Page_xxxi">[xxxi]</a></span> +folly. It was natural for him to be cheerful and kind-hearted, +and of his generosity and disinterestedness +not enough can be said. At the close of his life financial +difficulties assailed him, for he had given a +great part of his fortune to the support of a niece, +restricting his own expenses and living as modestly +as possible. In 1879, M. Jules Ferry, then Minister of Public +Instruction, offered him a place in the Bibliothèque +Mazarine, but the appointment was not confirmed.</p> + +<p>Flaubert's method of production was slow and +laborious. Sometimes weeks were required to write +a few pages, for he accumulated masses of notes and, +it must be said, so much erudition as at times to impede +action. He thought no toil too great, did it but +aid him in his pursuit of literary perfection, and when +the work that called for such expenditure of strength +and thought was finished, he looked for no reward +save that of a satisfied soul. Alien to business wisdom, +he believed that to set a price upon his work +disparaged it.</p> + +<p>In Flaubert, a Romanticist and a Naturalist at first +were blended. But the latter tendency was fostered +and acknowledged, while the former was repressed. +He was an ardent advocate of the impersonal in art, +declaring that an author should not in a page, a line, +or a word, express the smallest part of an opinion. +To him a writer was a mirror, but a mirror that reflected +life while adding that divine effulgence which +is Art. Of him a French Romanticist still living +says:</p> + +<p class="blockquot"> +"Imagination was espoused by Unremitting-Toil-in-Faith and bore +Flaubert. France fed the child, but Art stepped in and gave him to +the Nations as a Beacon for the worshippers of Truth-in-Letters-and-in-Life." +</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxii" id="Page_xxxii">[xxxii]</a></span> +The city of Rouen reared a monument to Flaubert's +memory, but on the spot where he breathed +his last are reared the chimneys and the buildings of +a factory, a tribute—possibly unconscious—to reality +in life.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Before writing <i>Madame Bovary</i> Flaubert had tested +himself, and an idea of the scope and variety of his +ideas may be gained from the following list of inedited +and unfinished fragments:</p> + +<p class="center">HISTORICAL</p> + +<p class="blockquot">The Death of the Due de Guise, 1835<br /> +Norman Chronicle of the Tenth Century, 1836<br /> +Two Hands on a Crown, or, During the Fifteenth Century, 1836.<br /> +Essay on the Struggle between Priesthood and Empire, 1838.<br /> +Rome and the Cæsars, 1839.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="center">TRAVELS</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Various notes on Travels to the Pyrenean Mountains, Corsica, +Spain and the Orient, from 1840 to 1850.</p> + +<p class="center">TALES AND NOVELS</p> + +<p class="blockquot">The Plague in Florence, 1836<br /> +Rage and Impotence, 1836<br /> +The Society Woman, fantastic verses, 1836<br /> +Bibliomania, 1836<br /> +An Exquisite Perfume, or, The Buffoons, 1836.<br /> +Dreams of the Infernal Regions, 1837<br /> +Passion and Chastity, 1837<br /> +The Funeral of Dr. Mathurin, or, During the XVth Century, 1839.<br /> +Frenzy and Death, 1843<br /> +Sentimental Education (not the novel published under same title). +1843.<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxxiii" id="Page_xxxiii">[xxxiii]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">PLAYS</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Louis XI, Drama, 1838<br /> +Discovery of Vaccination, a parody of tragic style; one act only +was written.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="center">CRITICISMS</p> + +<p class="blockquot">On Romantic Literature in France</p> + +<p class="center">MISCELLANY</p> + +<p class="blockquot">Quidquid volueris? A psychological study, 1837.<br /> +Agony (Sceptical Thoughts), 1838<br /> +Art and Commerce, 1839.<br /> +Several nameless sketches.<br /> +</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, nearly all the works of Flaubert's +youth were mere sketches, laid aside by him. Their +publication would have added nothing to his fame. +Still, the loss of some would have been deplorable, +to wit, such gems as <i>Novembre</i>, <i>The Dance of Death</i>, +<i>Rabelais</i>, and the travels, <i>Over Strand and Field</i>. These +sketches will be found in this edition.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 263px;"> +<img src="images/i029.jpg" width="263" height="70" alt="Signature: Robert Arnot" title="Signature: Robert Arnot" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_001" id="Page_001">[1]</a></span></p> + +<h1>MADAME BOVARY</h1> + +<h3>PART I.</h3> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<h4><a name="The_New_Boy" id="The_New_Boy"></a><span class="smcap">The New Boy.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap030"><span class="dropcap">W</span></span><br />E WERE in class when the head-master +came in, followed by a +"new fellow," not wearing the +school uniform, and a school servant +carrying a large desk. Those +who had been asleep woke up, and +every one rose as if just surprised at his work.</p> + +<p>The head-master made a sign to us to sit down. +Then, turning to the class-master, he said to him in +a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Roger, here is a pupil whom I recommend +to your care; he'll be in the second. If his +work and conduct are satisfactory, he will go into one +of the upper classes, as becomes his age."</p> + +<p>The "new fellow," standing in the corner behind +the door so that he could hardly be seen, was a +country lad of about fifteen, and taller than any of us. +His hair was cut square on his forehead like a village +chorister's; he looked reliable, but very ill at ease. +Although he was not broad-shouldered, his short +school jacket of green cloth with black buttons must +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_002" id="Page_002">[2]</a></span> +have been tight about the armholes, and showed at +the opening of the cuffs red wrists accustomed to being +bare. His legs, in blue stockings, looked out +from beneath yellow trousers, drawn tight by braces. +He wore stout, ill-cleaned, <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: hob-nailed">hobnailed</ins> boots.</p> + +<p>We began repeating the lesson. He listened with +all his ears, as attentive as if at a sermon, not daring +even to cross his legs or lean on his elbow; and +when at two o'clock the bell rang, the master was +obliged to tell him to fall into line with the rest of us.</p> + +<p>When we came back to work, we were in the +habit of throwing our caps on the floor so as to +have our hands more free; we used from the door to +toss them under the form, so that they hit against +the wall and made a lot of dust: it was "the thing."</p> + +<p>But, whether he had not noticed the trick, or did +not dare to attempt it, the "new fellow" was still +holding his cap on his knees even after prayers were +over. It was one of those head-gears of composite +order, in which we can find traces of the bearskin, +shako, billycock hat, sealskin cap, and cotton nightcap; +one of those poor things, in fine, whose dumb +ugliness has depths of expression, like an imbecile's +face. Oval, stiffened with whalebone, it began with +three round knobs; then came in succession lozenges +of velvet and rabbit-skin separated by a red band; +after that a sort of bag that ended in a cardboard polygon +covered with complicated braiding, from which +hung, at the end of a long, thin cord, small twisted +gold threads in the manner of a tassel. The cap was +new; its peak shone.</p> + +<p>"Rise," said the master.</p> + +<p>He stood up; his cap fell. The whole class began +to laugh. He stooped to pick it up. A neighbor +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_003" id="Page_003">[3]</a></span> +knocked it down again with his elbow; he picked +it up once more.</p> + +<p>"Get rid of your helmet," said the master, who +was a bit of a wag.</p> + +<p>There was a burst of laughter from the boys, +which so thoroughly put the poor lad out of countenance +that he did not know whether to keep his cap +in his hand, leave it on the floor, or put it on his +head. He sat down again and placed it on his knee.</p> + +<p>"Rise," repeated the master, "and tell me your +name."</p> + +<p>The new boy articulated in a stammering voice an +unintelligible name.</p> + +<p>"Again!"</p> + +<p>The same sputtering of syllables was heard, +drowned by the tittering of the class.</p> + +<p>"Louder!" cried the master; "louder!"</p> + +<p>The "new fellow" then took a supreme resolution, +opened an inordinately large mouth, and shouted at +the top of his voice as if calling some one the word, +"Charbovari."</p> + +<p>A hubbub broke out, rose in <i>crescendo</i> with bursts +of shrill voices (they yelled, barked, stamped, repeated +"Charbovari! Charbovari!"), then died away into +single notes, growing quieter only with great difficulty, +and now and again suddenly recommencing +along the line of a form whence rose here and there, +like a damp cracker going off, a stifled laugh.</p> + +<p>However, amid a rain of impositions, order was +gradually re-established in the class; and the master +having succeeded in catching the name of "Charles +Bovary," having had it dictated to him, spelt out, +and re-read, at once ordered the poor devil to go +and sit down on the punishment form at the foot of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_004" id="Page_004">[4]</a></span> +the master's desk. He got up, but before going hesitated.</p> + +<p>"What are you looking for?" asked the master.</p> + +<p>"My c-a-p," timidly said the "new fellow," casting +troubled looks round him.</p> + +<p>"Five hundred verses for all the class!" shouted +in a furious voice, stopped, like the <i>Quos ego</i>, a fresh +outburst "Silence!" continued the master indignantly, +wiping his brow with his handkerchief, which +he had just taken from his cap. "As to you, 'new +boy,' you will conjugate '<i>ridiculus sum</i>' twenty +times." Then, in a gentler tone, "Come, you'll find +your cap again; it hasn't been stolen."</p> + +<p>Quiet was restored. Heads bent over desks, and +the "new fellow" remained for two hours in an exemplary +attitude, although from time to time some +paper pellet flipped from the tip of a pen came bang +in his face. But he wiped his face with one hand +and continued motionless, his eyes lowered.</p> + +<p>In the evening, at preparation, he pulled out his +pens from his desk, arranged his small belongings, +and carefully ruled his paper. We saw him working +conscientiously, looking out every word in the dictionary, +and taking the greatest pains. Thanks, no +doubt, to the willingness he showed, he had not to +go down to the class below. But though he knew +his rules passably, he had little finish in composition. +It was the curé of his village who had taught him +his first Latin; his parents, from motives of economy, +having sent him to school as late as possible.</p> + +<p>His father, Monsieur Charles Denis Bartolomé Bovary, +retired assistant-surgeon-major, compromised +about 1812 in certain conscription scandals, and forced +at that time to leave the service, had then taken advantage +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_005" id="Page_005">[5]</a></span> +of his fine figure to get hold of a dowry of +sixty thousand francs that offered in the person of a +hosier's daughter who had fallen in love with his +good looks. A fine man, a great talker, making his +spurs ring as he walked, wearing whiskers that ran +into his moustache, his fingers always garnished with +rings, and dressed in loud colors, he had the dash of +a military man with the easy air of a commercial +traveller. Once married, he lived for three or four years +on his wife's fortune, dining well, rising late, smoking +long porcelain pipes, not coming in at night till after +the theater, and haunting cafés. The father-in-law +died, leaving little; he was indignant at this, "went +in for the business," lost some money in it, then retired +to the country, where he thought he would make +money. But, as he knew no more about farming +than calico, as he rode his horses instead of sending +them to plough, drank his cider in bottle instead of +selling it in cask, ate the finest poultry in his farmyard, +and greased his hunting-boots with the fat of +his pigs, he was not long in finding out that he +would do better to give up all speculation.</p> + +<p>For two hundred francs a year he managed to live +on the border of the provinces of Caux and Picardy, +in a kind of place half farm, half private house; and +here, soured, eaten up with regrets, cursing his luck, +jealous of every one, he shut himself up at the age +of forty-five, sick of men, he said, and determined to +live in peace.</p> + +<p>His wife had adored him once on a time; she had +bored him with a thousand servilities that had only +estranged him the more. Lively once, expansive and +affectionate, in growing older she had become (after +the fashion of wine that, exposed to air, turns to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_006" id="Page_006">[6]</a></span> +vinegar) ill-tempered, grumbling, irritable. She had +suffered so much without complaint at first, when +she had seen him going after all the village drabs, +and when a score of bad houses sent him back to +her at night, weary, stinking drunk. Then her pride +revolted. After that she was silent, burying her anger +in a dumb stoicism that she maintained till her +death. She was constantly going about looking after +business matters. She called on the lawyers, the +president, remembered when bills fell due, got them +renewed, and at home, ironed, sewed, washed, looked +after the workmen, paid the accounts, while he, +troubling himself about nothing, eternally besotted in +sleepy sulkiness, whence he only roused himself to +say disagreeable things to her, sat smoking by the +fire and spitting into the cinders.</p> + +<p>When she had a child, it had to be sent out to +nurse. When he came home, the lad was spoiled as +if he were a prince. His mother stuffed him with +jam; his father let him run about barefoot, and, playing +the philosopher, even said he might as well go +about quite naked like the young of animals. As opposed +to the maternal ideas, he had a certain virile +idea of childhood on which he sought to mould his +son, wishing him to be brought up hardily, like a +Spartan, to give him a strong constitution. He sent +him to bed without any fire, taught him to drink off +large draughts of rum, and to jeer at religious processions. +But, peaceable by nature, the lad answered +only poorly to his notions. His mother always kept +him near her; she cut out cardboard for him, told +him tales, entertained him with endless monologues +full of melancholy gaiety and charming nonsense. In +her life's isolation she centered on the child's head all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_007" id="Page_007">[7]</a></span> +her shattered, broken little vanities. She dreamed of +high station; she already saw him, tall, handsome, +clever, settled as an engineer or in the law. She +taught him to read, and even on an old piano she +had taught him two or three little songs. But to all +this Monsieur Bovary, caring little for letters, said: +"It is not worth while. Shall we ever have the +means to send him to a public school, to buy him a +practice, or to start him in business? Besides, with +cheek a man always gets on in the world." Madame +Bovary bit her lips, and the child knocked about the +village.</p> + +<p>He went after the laborers, drove away with clods +of earth the ravens that were flying about. He ate +blackberries along the hedges, minded the geese with +a long switch, went haymaking during harvest, ran +about in the woods, played hop-scotch under the +church porch on rainy days, and at great fêtes begged +the beadle to let him toll the bells, that he might +hang all his weight on the long rope and feel himself +borne upward by it in its swing. Meanwhile he +grew like an oak; he was strong of hand, fresh of +color.</p> + +<p>When he was twelve years old his mother had +her own way; he began his lessons. The curé took +him in hand; but the lessons were so short and irregular +that they could not be of much use. They +were given at spare moments in the sacristy, standing +up, hurriedly, between a baptism and a burial; or +else the curé, if he had not to go out, sent for his +pupil after the <i>Angelus</i>. They went up to his room +and settled down; the flies and moths fluttered round +the candle. It was close, the child fell asleep and +the good man, beginning to doze with his hands on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_008" id="Page_008">[8]</a></span> +his stomach, was soon snoring with his mouth wide +open. On other occasions, when Monsieur le Curé, +on his way back after administering the viaticum to +some sick person in the neighborhood, caught sight +of Charles playing about the fields, he called him, +lectured him for a quarter of an hour, and took advantage +of the occasion to make him conjugate his +verb at the foot of a tree. The rain interrupted them +or an acquaintance passed. All the same he was always +pleased with him, and even said the "young +man" had a very good memory.</p> + +<p>Charles could not go on like this. Madame Bovary +took strong steps. Ashamed, or rather tired out, +Monsieur Bovary gave in without a struggle, and +they waited one year longer, so that the lad should +take his first communion.</p> + +<p>Six months more passed, and the year after Charles +was finally sent to school at Rouen, whither his +father took him towards the end of October, at the +time of the St. Romain fair.</p> + +<p>It would now be impossible for any of us to remember +anything about him. He was a youth of +even temperament, who played in playtime, worked +in school-hours, was attentive in class, slept well +in the dormitory, and ate well in the refectory. He +had <i>in loco parentis</i> a wholesale ironmonger in +the Rue Ganterie, who took him out once a month +on Sundays after his shop was shut, sent him for a +walk on the quay to look at the boats, and then +brought him back to college at seven o'clock before +supper. Every Thursday evening he wrote a long +letter to his mother with red ink and three wafers; +then he went over his history note-books, or read an +old volume of "Anarchasis" that was knocking about +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_009" id="Page_009">[9]</a></span> +the study. When we went for walks he talked to +the servant who, like himself, came from the country.</p> + +<p>By dint of hard work he kept always about the middle +of the class; once even he got a certificate in natural +history. But at the end of his third year his parents +withdrew him from the school to make him study +medicine, convinced that he could even take his degree +by himself.</p> + +<p>His mother chose a room for him on the fourth +floor of a dyer's she knew, overlooking the Eau-de-Robec. +She made arrangements for his board, got +him furniture, a table and two chairs, sent home for +an old cherry-tree bedstead, and bought besides a +small cast-iron stove with the supply of wood that +was to warm the poor child. Then at the end of a +week she departed, after a thousand injunctions to be +good, now that he was going to be left to himself.</p> + +<p>The syllabus that he read on the notice-board +stunned him: lectures on anatomy, lectures on pathology, +lectures on physiology, lectures on pharmacy, +lectures on botany and clinical medicine, and therapeutics, +without counting hygiene and materia medica—all +names of whose etymologies he was ignorant, +and that were to him as so many doors to sanctuaries +filled with magnificent darkness.</p> + +<p>He understood nothing of it all; it was all very +well to listen—he did not follow. Still he worked; he +had bound note-books, he attended all the courses, +never missed a single lecture. He did his little daily +task like a mill-horse, who goes round and round +with his eyes bandaged, not knowing what work +he is doing.</p> + +<p>To spare him expense his mother sent him every +week by the carrier a piece of veal baked in the oven, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_010" id="Page_010">[10]</a></span> +on which he lunched when he came back from +the hospital, while he sat kicking his feet against the +wall. After this he had to run off to lectures, to the +operation-room, to the hospital, and return to his +home at the other end of the town. In the evening, +after the poor dinner of his landlord, he went back +to his room and set to work again in his wet clothes, +that smoked as he sat in front of the hot stove.</p> + +<p>On the fine summer evenings, at the time when +the close streets are empty, when the servants are +playing shuttlecock at the doors, he opened his window +and leaned out. The river, that makes of this +quarter of Rouen a wretched little Venice, flowed beneath +him, between the bridges and the railings, yellow, +violet, or blue. Working men, kneeling on the +banks, washed their bare arms in the water. On +poles projecting from the attics, skeins of cotton were +drying in the air. Opposite, beyond the roofs, spread +the pure heaven with the red sun setting. How +pleasant it must be at home! How fresh under the +beech-tree! And he expanded his nostrils to breathe +in the sweet odors of the country which did not +reach him.</p> + +<p>He grew thin, his figure became taller, his face +took a saddened look that made it almost interesting. +Naturally, through indifference, he abandoned all the +resolutions he had made. Once he missed a lecture; +the next day all the lectures; and, enjoying his idleness, +little by little he gave up work altogether. He +got into the habit of going to the public-house, and +had a passion for dominoes. To shut himself up +every evening in the dirty public room, to push about +on marble tables the small sheep-bones with black +dots, seemed to him a fine proof of his freedom, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_011" id="Page_011">[11]</a></span> +which raised him in his own esteem. It was beginning +to see life, the sweetness of stolen pleasures; +and when he entered, he put his hand on the door-handle +with a joy almost sensual. Then many things +hidden within him come out; he learnt couplets by +heart and sang them to his boon companions, became +enthusiastic about Béranger, learnt how to make +punch, and, finally, how to make love.</p> + +<p>Thanks to these preparatory labors, he failed completely +in his examination for an ordinary degree. He +was expected home the same night to celebrate his +success. He started on foot, stopped at the beginning +of the village, sent for his mother, and told her all. +She excused him, threw the blame of his failure on +the injustice of the examiners, encouraged him a little, +and took upon herself to set matters straight. It was +only five years later that Monsieur Bovary knew the +truth; it was old then, and he accepted it. Moreover, +he could not believe that a man born of him +could be a fool.</p> + +<p>So Charles set to work again and crammed for his +examination, ceaselessly learning all the old questions +by heart. He passed pretty well. What a happy day +for his mother! They gave a grand dinner.</p> + +<p>Where should he go to practise? To Tostes, +where there was only one old doctor. For a long +time Madame Bovary had been on the look-out for +his death, and the old fellow had barely been packed +off when Charles was installed, opposite his place, as +his successor.</p> + +<p>But it was not everything to have brought up a +son, to have had him taught medicine, and discovered +Tostes, where he could practise it; he must have a +wife. She found him one—the widow of a bailiff at +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_012" id="Page_012">[12]</a></span> +Dieppe, who was forty-five and had an income of +twelve hundred francs. Though she was ugly, as dry +as a bone, her face with as many pimples as the +spring has buds, Madame Dubuc had no lack of suitors. +To attain her ends Madame Bovary had to oust +them all, and she even succeeded in very cleverly +baffling the intrigues of a pork-butcher backed up by +the priests.</p> + +<p>Charles had seen in marriage the advent of an +easier life, thinking he would be more free to do as +he liked with himself and his money. But his wife +was master; he had to say this and not say that in +company, to fast every Friday, dress as she liked, +harass at her bidding those patients who did not +pay. She opened his letters, watched his comings +and goings, and listened at the partition-wall when +women came to consult him in his surgery.</p> + +<p>She must have her chocolate every morning, attentions +without end. She constantly complained of +her nerves, her chest, her liver. The noise of footsteps +made her ill; when people left her, solitude became +odious to her; if they came back, it was doubtless +to see her die. When Charles returned in the evening, +she stretched forth two long thin arms from +beneath the sheets, put them round his neck, and +having made him sit down on the edge of the bed, +began to talk to him of her troubles: he was neglecting +her, he loved another. She had been warned she +would be unhappy; and she ended by asking him for +a dose of medicine and a little more love.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_013" id="Page_013">[13]</a></span></p> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<h4><a name="A_Good_Patient" id="A_Good_Patient"></a><span class="smcap">A Good Patient.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap042"><span class="dropcap">O</span></span><br />NE night toward eleven o'clock they +were awakened by the noise of a +horse pulling up outside their door. +The servant opened the garret-window +and parleyed for some +time with a man in the street below. +He came for the doctor, had a letter for him. +Nastasie came downstairs shivering and undid the bars +and bolts one after the other. The man left his horse, +and, following the servant, suddenly came in behind +her. He pulled out from his wool cap with grey +top-knots a letter wrapped up in a rag and presented +it gingerly to Charles, who rested his elbow on the +pillow to read it. Nastasie, standing near the bed, +held the light. Madame in modesty had turned to +the wall and showed only her back.</p> + +<p>This letter, sealed with a small seal in blue wax, +begged Monsieur Bovary to come immediately to the +farm of the Bertaux to set a broken leg. Now from +Tostes to the Bertaux was a good eighteen miles +across country by way of Longueville and Saint-Victor. +It was a dark night; Madame Bovary junior +was afraid of accidents for her husband. So it was +decided the stable-boy should go on first; Charles +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_014" id="Page_014">[14]</a></span> +would start three hours later when the moon rose. +A boy was to be sent to meet him, and show him +the way to the farm, and open the gates for him.</p> + +<p>Towards four o'clock in the morning, Charles, +well wrapped up in his cloak, set out for the Bertaux. +Still sleepy from the warmth of his bed, he +let himself be lulled by the quiet trot of his horse. +When it stopped of its own accord in front of those +holes surrounded with thorns that are dug on the +margin of furrows, Charles awoke with a start, suddenly +remembered the broken leg, and tried to call +to mind all the fractures he knew. The rain had +stopped, day was breaking, and on the branches of +the leafless trees birds roosted motionless, their little +feathers bristling in the cold morning wind. The +flat country stretched as far as eye could see, and +the tufts of trees round the farms at long intervals +seemed like dark violet stains on the vast gray surface, +that on the horizon faded into the gloom of the +sky, Charles from time to time opened his eyes, his +mind grew weary, and sleep coming upon him, he +soon fell into a doze wherein his recent sensations +blending with memories, he became conscious of a +double self, at once student and married man, lying +in his bed as but now, and crossing the operation +theater as of old. The warm smell of poultices mingled +in his brain with the fresh odor of dew; he +heard the iron rings rattling along the curtain-rods of +the bed, and saw his wife sleeping. As he passed +Vassonville he came upon a boy sitting on the grass +at the edge of a ditch.</p> + +<p>"Are you the doctor?" asked the child.</p> + +<p>And on Charles's answer he took his wooden +shoes in his hands and ran on in front of him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_015" id="Page_015">[15]</a></span> +The general practitioner, riding along, gathered +from his guide's talk that Monsieur Rouault must be +one of the well-to-do farmers. He had broken his +leg the evening before on his way home from a +Twelfth-night feast at a neighbor's. His wife had +been dead for two years. There was only his daughter, +who helped him to keep house, with him.</p> + +<p>The ruts were becoming deeper; they were approaching +the Bertaux. The little lad, slipping +through a hole in the hedge, disappeared; then he +came back to the end of a courtyard to open the +gate. The horse slipped on the wet grass; Charles +had to stoop to pass under the branches. The +watchdogs in their kennels barked, dragging at their +chains. As he entered the Bertaux the horse took +fright and stumbled.</p> + +<p>It was a substantial-looking farm. In the stables, +over the top of the open doors, one could see great +cart-horses quietly feeding from new racks. Right +along the outbuildings extended a large dunghill, +from which manure liquid oozed, while amidst fowls +and turkeys five or six peacocks, a luxury in Chauchois +farmyards, were foraging on the top of it. The +sheepfold was long, the barn high, with walls smooth +as your hand. Under the <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: the original reads cartshed">cart-shed</ins> were two large +carts and four ploughs, with their whips, shafts, and +harnesses complete, whose fleeces of blue wool were +getting soiled by the fine dust that fell from the +granaries. The courtyard sloped upwards, planted +with trees set out symmetrically, and the chattering +noise of a flock of geese was heard near the pond.</p> + +<p>A young woman in a blue merino dress with +three flounces came to the threshold of the door to +receive Monsieur Bovary, whom she led to the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_016" id="Page_016">[16]</a></span> +kitchen, where a large fire was blazing. The servants' +breakfast was boiling beside it in small pots of +all sizes. Some damp clothes were drying inside the +chimney-corner. The shovel, tongs, and the nozzle of +the bellows, all of colossal size, shone like polished +steel, while along the walls hung many pots and +pans in which the clear flame of the hearth, mingling +with the first rays of the sun coming in through +the window, was mirrored fitfully.</p> + +<p>Charles went up to the first floor to see the patient. +He found him in his bed, sweating under his +bed-clothes, having thrown his cotton nightcap far +away from him. He was a fat little man of fifty, +with white skin and blue eyes, the fore part of his +head was bald, and he wore ear-rings. Near him on a +chair stood a large decanter of brandy, whence he +poured himself out a little from time to time to keep +up his spirits; but as soon as he caught sight of the +doctor his elation subsided, and instead of swearing, +as he had been doing for the last twelve hours, he +began to groan feebly.</p> + +<p>The fracture was a simple one, without any kind +of complication. Charles could not have hoped for +an easier case. Then calling to mind the devices of +his masters at the bedside of patients, he comforted +the sufferer with all sorts of kindly remarks, those +caresses of the surgeon that are like the oil they put +on bistouries. In order to make some splints a bundle +of laths was brought up from the cart-house. +Charles selected one, cut it into two pieces and +planed it with a fragment of window-pane, while the +servant tore up sheets to make bandages, and Mademoiselle +Emma tried to sew some pads. As she was +a long time before she found her workcase, her father +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_017" id="Page_017">[17]</a></span> +grew impatient; she did not answer, but as she sewed +she pricked her fingers, which she then put to her +mouth to suck. Charles was much surprised at the +whiteness of her nails. They were shiny, delicate at +the tips, more polished than the ivory of Dieppe, and +almond-shaped. Yet her hand was not beautiful, perhaps +not white enough, and a little hard at the +knuckles; besides, it was too long, with no soft inflections +in the outlines. Her real beauty was in her +eyes. Although brown, they seemed black because of +the lashes, and her look came at you frankly, with a +candid boldness.</p> + +<p>The bandaging over, the doctor was invited by +Monsieur Rouault himself to "pick a bit" before he +left.</p> + +<p>Charles went down into the room on the ground-floor. +Knives and forks and silver goblets were laid +for two on a little table at the foot of a huge bed that +had a canopy of printed cotton with figures representing +Turks. There was an odor of iris-root and damp +sheets that escaped from a large oak chest opposite +the window. On the floor in corners were sacks of +flour stuck upright in rows. These were the overflow +from the neighboring granary, to which three stone +steps led. By way of decoration for the apartment, +hanging to a nail in the middle of the wall, whose +green paint had scaled off from the effects of saltpeter, +was a crayon head of Minerva in a gold frame, underneath +which was written in Gothic letters "To +dear Papa."</p> + +<p>First they spoke of the patient, then of the weather, +of the great cold, of the wolves that infested the +fields at night. Mademoiselle Rouault did not at all +like the country, especially now that she had to look +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_018" id="Page_018">[18]</a></span> +after the farm almost alone. As the room was chilly, +she shivered as she ate. This showed something of +her full lips, that she had a habit of biting when +silent.</p> + +<p>Her neck stood out from a white turned-down +collar. Her hair, whose two black folds seemed each +of a single piece, so smooth were they, was parted +in the middle by a delicate line that curved slightly +with the curve of the head; and, just showing the +tip of the ear, it was joined behind in a thick chignon, +with a wavy movement at the temples that the +country doctor saw now for the first time in his life. +The upper part of her cheek was rose-colored. She +had, like a man, thrust in between two buttons of +her bodice a tortoise-shell eyeglass.</p> + +<p>When Charles, after bidding farewell to old Rouault, +returned to the room before leaving, he found +her standing, her forehead against the window, looking +into the garden, where the bean props had been +knocked down by the wind. She turned round.</p> + +<p>"Are you looking for anything?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"My whip, if you please," he answered.</p> + +<p>He began rummaging on the bed, behind the +doors, under the chairs. It had fallen to the floor, +between the sacks and the wall. Mademoiselle Emma +saw it, and bent over the flour sacks. Charles, out +of politeness, made a dash also, and as he stretched +out his arm, at the same moment felt his breast +brush against the back of the young girl bending beneath +him. She drew herself up, scarlet, and looked +at him over her shoulder as she handed him his +whip.</p> + +<p>Instead of returning to the Bertaux in three days +as he had promised, he went back the very next +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_019" id="Page_019">[19]</a></span> +day, <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'than'">then</ins> regularly twice a week, without counting +the visits he paid now and then as if by accident.</p> + +<p>Everything, moreover, went well; the patient progressed +favorably; and when, at the end of forty-six +days, old Rouault was seen trying to walk alone in +his "den," Monsieur Bovary began to be looked upon +as a man of great capacity. Old Rouault said that he +could not have been cured better by the first doctor +of Yvetot, or even of Rouen.</p> + +<p>As to Charles, he did not stay to ask himself why +it was a pleasure to him to go to the Bertaux. Had +he done so, he would, no doubt, have attributed his +zeal to the importance of the case, or perhaps to the +money he hoped to make by it. Was it for this, +however, that his visits to the farm formed a delightful +exception to the meagre occupations of his +life? On these days he rose early, set off at a gallop, +urging on his horse, then got down to wipe his +boots in the grass and put on black gloves before entering. +He liked going into the courtyard, and noticing +the gate turn against his shoulder, the cock crow +on the wall, the lads run to meet him. He liked the +granary and the stables; he liked old Rouault, who +pressed his hand and called him his savior; he liked +the small wooden shoes of Mademoiselle Emma on +the scoured flags of the kitchen—her high heels made +her a little taller; and when she walked in front of +him, the wooden soles springing up quickly struck +with a sharp sound against the leather of her boots.</p> + +<p>She always reconducted him to the first step of +the stairs. When his horse had not yet been brought +round she stayed there. They had said "Good-bye;" +there was no more talking. The open air wrapped +her round, playing with the soft down on the back +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_020" id="Page_020">[20]</a></span> +of her neck, or blew to and fro on her hips her +apron-strings, that fluttered like streamers. Once, +during a thaw, the bark of the trees in the yard was +oozing, the snow on the roofs of the <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: out-buildings">outbuildings</ins> +was melting; she stood on the threshold, and went +to fetch her sunshade and opened it. The sunshade, +of silk of the color of pigeons' breasts, through which +the sun shone, lighted up with shifting hues the +white skin of her face. She smiled under the tender +warmth, and drops of water could be heard falling +one by one on the stretched silk.</p> + +<p>During the first period of Charles's visits to the +Bertaux, Madame Bovary, junior, never failed to inquire +after the invalid, and she had even chosen in +the book that she kept on a system of double entry +a clean blank page for Monsieur Rouault. But when +she heard he had a daughter, she began to make inquiries, +and she learnt that Mademoiselle Rouault, +brought up at the Ursuline Convent, had received +what is called "a good education;" and so knew +dancing, geography, drawing, how to embroider and +play the piano. That was the last straw.</p> + +<p>"So it is for this," she said to herself, "that his +face beams when he goes to see her, and that he +puts on his new waistcoat at the risk of spoiling it +with the rain. Ah! that woman! that woman!"</p> + +<p>And she detested her instinctively. At first she +solaced herself by allusions that Charles did not understand, +then by casual observations that he let pass +for fear of a storm, finally by open apostrophes to +which he knew not what to answer. "Why did he +go back to the Bertaux now that Monsieur Rouault +was cured and that these folks hadn't paid yet? Ah! +it was because a young lady was there, some one +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_021" id="Page_021">[21]</a></span> +who knew how to talk, to embroider, to be witty. +That was what he cared about; he wanted town +misses." And she went on:</p> + +<p>"The daughter of old Rouault a town miss! Get +out! Their grandfather was a shepherd, and they +have a cousin who was almost had up at the assizes +for a nasty blow in a quarrel. It is not worth while +making such a fuss, or showing herself at church on +Sundays in a silk gown, like a countess. Besides, the +poor old chap, if it hadn't been for the colza last year, +would have had much ado to pay up his arrears."</p> + +<p>For very weariness Charles left off going to the +Bertaux. Héloise made him swear, his hand on the +prayer-book, that he would go there no more, after +much sobbing and many kisses, in a great outburst +of love. He obeyed then, but the strength of his desire +protested against the servility of his conduct; and +he thought, with a kind of naïve hypocrisy, that this +interdict to see her gave him a sort of right to love +her. And then the widow was thin; she had long +teeth; wore in all weathers a little black shawl, the +edge of which hung down between her shoulder-blades; +her bony figure was sheathed in her clothes +as if they were a scabbard; they were too short, +and displayed her ankles with the laces of her large +boots crossed over gray stockings.</p> + +<p>Charles's mother came to see them from time to +time, but after a few days the daughter-in-law seemed +to put her own edge on her, and then, like two knives, +they scarified him with their reflections and observations. +It was wrong of him to eat so much. Why +did he always offer a glass of something to every one +who came? What obstinacy not to wear flannels!</p> + +<p>In the spring it came about that a notary at Ingouville, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_022" id="Page_022">[22]</a></span> +the holder of the widow Dubuc's property, one +fine day went off, taking with him all the money in +his office. Héloise, it is true, still possessed, besides +a share in a boat valued at six thousand francs, her +house in the Rue St. François; and yet, with all this fortune +that had been so trumpeted abroad, nothing, excepting +perhaps a little furniture and a few clothes, had +appeared in the household. The matter had to be gone +into. The house at Dieppe was found to be eaten up +with mortgages to its foundations; what she had +placed with the notary God only knew, and her share +in the boat did not exceed one thousand crowns. +She had lied, the good lady! In his exasperation, +Monsieur Bovary the elder, smashing a chair on the +flags, accused his wife of having caused the misfortune +of their son by harnessing him to such a harridan, +whose harness wasn't worth her hide. They +came to Tostes. Explanations followed. There were +scenes. Héloise in tears, throwing her arms about +her husband, conjured him to defend her from his +parents. Charles tried to speak up for her. They +grew angry and left the house.</p> + +<p>But the blow had struck home. A week after, +as she was hanging up some washing in her yard, +she was seized with a spitting of blood, and the next +day, while Charles had his back turned to her drawing +the window-curtain, she said, "O God!" gave a +sigh and fainted. She was dead! What a surprise!</p> + +<p>When all was over at the cemetery, Charles went +home. He found no one downstairs; he went up to +the first floor to their room; saw her dress still hanging +at the foot of the alcove; then, leaning against +the writing-table, he stayed until the evening, buried +in a sorrowful reverie. She had loved him, after all!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_023" id="Page_023">[23]</a></span></p> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<h4><a name="A_Lonely_Widower" id="A_Lonely_Widower"></a><span class="smcap">A Lonely Widower.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap052"><span class="dropcap">O</span></span><br />NE morning old Rouault brought +Charles the money for setting his +leg—seventy-five francs in forty-sou +pieces, and a turkey. He +had heard of his loss, and consoled +him as well as he could.</p> + +<p>"I know what it is," said he, clapping him on +the shoulder; "I've been through it. When I lost +my dear departed, I went into the fields to be quite +alone. I fell at the foot of a tree; I cried; I called +on God; I talked nonsense to him. I wanted to be +like the moles that I saw on the branches, their insides +swarming with worms, dead, and an end of it. +And when I thought that there were others at that +very moment with their nice little wives holding +them in their embrace, I struck great blows on the +earth with my stick. I was pretty well mad with +not eating; the very idea of going to a café disgusted +me—you wouldn't believe it. Well, quite +softly, one day following another, a spring on a winter, +and an autumn after a summer, this wore away, +piece by piece, crumb by crumb; it passed away, it +is gone, I should say it has sunk; for something always +remains at the bottom, as one would say—a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_024" id="Page_024">[24]</a></span> +weight here, at one's heart. But since it is the lot +of all of us, one must not give way altogether, and, +because others have died, want to die too. You +must pull yourself together, Monsieur Bovary. It will +pass away. Come to see us; my daughter thinks of +you now and again, d'ye know, and she says you +are forgetting her. Spring will soon be here. We'll +have some rabbit-shooting in the warrens to amuse +you a bit."</p> + +<p>Charles followed his advice. He went back to +the Bertaux. He found all as he had left it, that is +to say, as it was five months ago. The pear trees +were already in blossom, and Farmer Rouault, on his +legs again, came and went, making the farm more +full of life.</p> + +<p>Thinking it his duty to heap the greatest attention +upon the doctor because of his sad position, he +begged him not to take his hat off, spoke to him in +an undertone as if he had been ill, and even pretended +to be angry because nothing rather lighter +had been prepared for him than for the others, such +as a little clotted cream or stewed pears. He told +stories. Charles found himself laughing, but the remembrance +of his wife suddenly coming back to him +depressed him. Coffee was brought in; he thought +no more about her.</p> + +<p>He thought less of her as he grew accustomed to +living alone. The new delight of independence soon +made his loneliness bearable. He could now change +his meal-times, go in or out without explanation, and +when he was very tired stretch himself full length on +his bed. So he nursed and coddled himself and accepted +the consolations that were offered him. On +the other hand, the death of his wife had not served +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_025" id="Page_025">[25]</a></span> +him ill in his business, since for a month people had +been saying, "The poor young man! what a loss!" +His name had been talked about, his practice had +increased; and, moreover, he could go to the Bertaux +just as he liked. He had an aimless hope, and +was vaguely happy; he thought himself better looking +as he brushed his whiskers before the looking-glass.</p> + +<p>One day he got there about three o'clock. Everybody +was in the fields. He went into the kitchen, +but did not at once catch sight of Emma; the outside +shutters were closed. Through the chinks of the +wood the sun sent across the flooring long fine rays +that were broken at the corners of the furniture and +trembled along the ceiling. Some flies on the table +were crawling up the glasses that had been used, and +buzzing as they drowned themselves in the dregs of +the cider. The daylight that came in by the chimney +made velvet of the soot at the back of the fireplace, +and touched with blue the cold cinders. Between the +window and the hearth Emma was sewing; she wore +no fichu; he could see small drops of perspiration on +her bare shoulders.</p> + +<p>After the fashion of country folks she asked him to +have something to drink. He said no; she insisted +and at last laughingly offered to have a glass of liqueur +with him. So she went to fetch a bottle of curaçoa +from the cupboard, reached down two small glasses, +filled one to the brim, poured scarcely anything into +the other, and, after clinking their glasses, carried +hers to her mouth. As it was almost empty she +bent back to drink, her head thrown back, her lips +pouting, her neck on the strain. She laughed at getting +none of it, while with the tip of her tongue +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_026" id="Page_026">[26]</a></span> +passing between her small teeth she licked drop by +drop the bottom of her glass.</p> + +<p>She sat down again and took up her work, a +white cotton stocking she was darning. She worked +with her head bent down; she did not speak, nor +did Charles. The air coming in under the door blew +a little dust over the flags; he watched it drift along, +and heard nothing but the throbbing in his head and +the faint clucking of a hen that had laid an egg in +the yard. Emma from time to time cooled her cheeks +with the palms of her hands, and cooled these again +on the knobs of the huge fire-dogs.</p> + +<p>She complained of suffering since the beginning of +the season from giddiness; she asked if sea-baths would +do her any good; she began talking of her convent, +Charles of his school; words came to them. They +went up into her bedroom. She showed him her old +music-books, the little prizes she had won, and the +oak-leaf crowns, left at the bottom of a cupboard. +She spoke to him, too, of her mother, of the country, +and even showed him the bed in the garden where, +on the first Friday of every month, she gathered +flowers to put on her mother's tomb. But their gardeners +had understood nothing about it; servants +were so careless. She would have dearly liked, if +only for the winter, to live in town, although the +length of the fine days made the country perhaps +even more wearisome in the summer. And, according +to what she was saying, her voice was clear, +sharp, or, on a sudden, all languor, lingering out in +modulations that ended almost in murmurs as she +spoke to herself; now joyous, opening big, naïve +eyes, then with her eyelids half closed, her look full +of boredom, her thoughts wandering.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_027" id="Page_027">[27]</a></span> +Going home at night, Charles went over her words, +one by one, trying to recall them, to fill out their +sense, that he might piece out the life she had lived +before he knew her. But he never saw her in his +thoughts other than he had seen her the first time, +or as he had just left her. Then he asked himself +what would become of her—if she would be married, +and to whom? Alas! old Rouault was rich, and +she!—so beautiful! But Emma's face always rose before +his eyes, and a monotone, like the humming of +a top, sounded in his ears, "If you should marry, +after all! if you should marry!" At night he could +not sleep; his throat was parched; he was athirst. +He got up to drink from the water-bottle and opened +the window. The night was covered with stars, a +warm wind blowing in the distance; the dogs were +barking. He turned his head toward the Bertaux.</p> + +<p>Thinking that, after all, he should lose nothing, +Charles promised himself to ask her in marriage as +soon as occasion offered, but each time such occasion +did offer the fear of not finding the right words sealed +his lips.</p> + +<p>Old Rouault would not have been sorry to be rid +of his daughter, who was of no use to him in the +house. In his heart he excused her, thinking her too +clever for farming, a calling under the ban of Heaven, +since one never saw a millionaire in it. Far from +having made a fortune by it, the good man was losing +every year; for if he was good in bargaining, in +which he enjoyed the dodges of the trade, on the +other hand, agriculture properly so called, and the internal +management of the farm, suited him less than +most people. He did not willingly take his hands out +of his pockets, and did not spare expense in all that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_028" id="Page_028">[28]</a></span> +concerned himself, liking to eat well, to have good +fires, and to sleep well. He liked old cider, underdone +legs of mutton, <i>glorias</i><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> well beaten up. He +took his meals in the kitchen alone, opposite the <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'fire.' with a period">fire,</ins> +on a little table brought to him all ready laid, as on +the stage.</p> + +<p>When, therefore, he perceived that Charles's cheeks +grew red if near his daughter, which meant that he +would propose for her one of these days, he chewed +the cud of the matter beforehand. He certainly +thought him a little meagre, and not quite the son-in-law +he would have liked, but he was said to be +well-conducted, economical, very learned, and no +doubt would not make too many difficulties about +the dowry. Now, as old Rouault would soon be +forced to sell twenty-two acres of "his property," as +he owed a good deal to the mason, to the harness-maker, +and as the shaft of the cider-press wanted renewing, +"If he asks for her," he said to himself, +"I'll give her to him."</p> + +<p>At Michaelmas Charles went to spend three days +at the Bertaux. The last had passed like the others, +in procrastinating from hour to hour. Old Rouault +was seeing him off; they were walking along the +road full of ruts; they were about to part. This was +the time. Charles gave himself as far as to the corner +of the hedge, and at last, when past it:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Rouault," he murmured, "I should like +to say something to you."</p> + +<p>They stopped. Charles was silent.</p> + +<p>"Well, tell me your story. Don't I know all about +it?" said old Rouault, laughing softly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_029" id="Page_029">[29]</a></span> +"Monsieur Rouault—Monsieur Rouault," stammered +Charles.</p> + +<p>"I ask nothing better," the farmer went on. "Although, +no doubt, the little one is of my mind, still +we must ask her opinion. So you get off—I'll go +back home. If it is 'yes,' you needn't return because +of all the people about, and besides it would upset +her too much. But so that you mayn't be eating +your heart, I'll open wide the outer shutter of the +window against the wall; you can see it from the +back by leaning over the hedge."</p> + +<p>And he went off.</p> + +<p>Charles fastened his horse to a tree; he ran into +the road and waited. Half-an-hour passed, then he +counted nineteen minutes by his watch. Suddenly a +noise was heard against the wall; the shutter had +been thrown back; the hook was still swinging.</p> + +<p>The next day by nine o'clock he was at the farm. +Emma blushed as he entered, and she gave a little +forced laugh to keep herself in countenance. Old +Rouault embraced his future son-in-law. The discussion +of money matters was put off; moreover, there +was plenty of time before them, as the marriage could +not decently take place till Charles was out of mourning, +that is to say, about the spring of the next year.</p> + +<p>The winter passed waiting for this. Mademoiselle +Rouault was busy with her trousseau. Part of it was +ordered at Rouen, and she made herself chemises and +nightcaps after fashion-plates that she borrowed. +When Charles visited the farmer, the preparations for +the wedding were talked over; they wondered in +what room they should have dinner; they dreamed of +the number of dishes that would be wanted, and +what should be the entrées.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_030" id="Page_030">[30]</a></span> +Emma would, on the contrary, have preferred to +have a midnight wedding with torches, but old Rouault +could not understand such an idea. So there was +a wedding at which forty-three persons were present, +at which they remained sixteen hours at table, began +again the next day, and to some extent on the days +following.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>A mixture of coffee and spirits.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 99px;"> +<img src="images/i059.jpg" width="99" height="50" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_031" id="Page_031">[31]</a></span></p> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Consolation" id="Consolation"></a><span class="smcap">Consolation.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap060"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span><br />HE guests arrived early in carriages, +in one-horse chaises, two-wheeled +cars, old open gigs, wagonettes +with leather hoods, and the young +people from the nearer villages in +carts, in which they stood up in +rows, holding on to the sides so as not to fall, going +at a trot and well shaken up. Some came from a +distance of thirty miles, from Goderville, from Normanville, +and from Cany. All the relatives of both +families had been invited, quarrels between friends arranged, +acquaintances long since lost sight of written +to.</p> + +<p>From time to time one heard the crack of a whip +behind the hedge; then the gates opened, a chaise entered. +Galloping up to the foot of the steps, it stopped +short and emptied its load. They got down from all +sides, rubbing knees and stretching arms. The ladies +wearing bonnets, had on dresses in the town fashion, +gold watch chains, pelerines with the ends tucked +into belts, or little colored fichus fastened down behind +with a pin, that left the back of the neck +bare. The lads, dressed like their papas, seemed uncomfortable +in their new clothes (many that day +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_032" id="Page_032">[32]</a></span> +handselled their first pair of boots), and by their sides, +speaking never a word, wearing the white dress of +their first communion lengthened for the occasion, +were some big girls of fourteen or sixteen, cousins or +elder sisters no doubt, rubicund, bewildered, their +hair greasy with rose-pomade, and very much afraid +of soiling their gloves. As there were not enough +stable-boys to unharness all the carriages, the gentlemen +turned up their sleeves and set about it themselves. +According to their different social positions, +they wore tail-coats, overcoats, shooting-jackets, cutaway-coats: +fine tail-coats, redolent of family respectability, +that came out of the wardrobe only on +state occasions; overcoats with long tails flapping in +the wind and round capes and pockets like sacks; +shooting-jackets of coarse cloth, usually worn with +a cap with a brass-bound peak; very short cutaway-coats +with two small buttons in the back, close together +like a pair of eyes, the tails of which seemed +cut out of one piece by a carpenter's hatchet. Some, +too (but these, you may be sure, would sit at the +bottom of the table), wore their best blouses—that is +to say, with collars turned down to the shoulders, +the back gathered into small plaits and the waist +fastened very far down with a worked belt.</p> + +<p>And the shirts stood out from the chests like cuirasses! +Every one had just had his hair cut; ears +stood out from the heads; they had been close-shaven; +a few, even, who had had to get up before daybreak, +and not been able to see to shave, had diagonal +gashes under their noses or cuts the size of a three-franc +piece along the jaws, which the fresh air <i>en +route</i> had inflamed, so that the great, white, beaming +faces were mottled here and there with red dabs.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_033" id="Page_033">[33]</a></span> +The <i>mairie</i> was a mile and a half from the farm, +and they went thither on foot, returning in the same +way after the ceremony in the church. The procession, +first united like one long colored scarf that +undulated across the fields, along the narrow path +winding amid the green corn, soon lengthened out, +and broke up in different groups that loitered to talk. +The fiddler walked in front with his violin, gay with +ribbons in its pegs. Then came the married pair, +the relations, the friends, all following pell-mell; the +children stayed behind amusing themselves plucking +the bell-flowers from oat-ears, or playing among +themselves unseen. Emma's skirt, too long, trailed a +little on the ground; from time to time she stopped +to pull it up, and then delicately, with her gloved +hands, she picked off the coarse grass and the thistledowns, +while Charles, empty handed, waited till she +had finished. Old Rouault, with a new silk hat and +the cuffs of his black coat covering his hands up to +the nails, gave his arm to Madame Bovary, senior. +As to Monsieur Bovary senior, who, heartily despising +all these folk, had come simply in a frock-coat +of military cut with one row of buttons—he was +passing compliments of the bar to a fair young peasant. +She bowed, blushed, and did not know what +to say. The other wedding guests talked of their +business or played tricks behind each other's backs, +egging one another on in advance to be jolly. Those +who listened could always catch the squeaking of the +fiddler, who went on playing across the fields. When +he saw that the rest were far behind he stopped to +take breath, slowly rosined his bow, so that the +strings should sound more shrilly, then set off again, +by turns lowering and raising his neck, the better to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_034" id="Page_034">[34]</a></span> +mark time for himself. The noise of the instrument +drove the little birds far away.</p> + +<p>The table was laid under the cart-shed. On it +were four sirloins, six chicken fricassées, stewed veal, +three legs of mutton, and in the middle a fine roast +sucking-pig, flanked by four chitterlings with sorrel. +At the corners were decanters of brandy. Sweet +bottled-cider frothed round the corks, and all the +glasses had been filled to the brim with wine beforehand. +Large dishes of yellow cream, that trembled +with the least shake of the table, had designed on +their smooth surface the initials of the newly wedded +pair in nonpareil arabesques. A confectioner of Yvetot +had been intrusted with the tarts and sweets. As +he had only just set up in the place, he had taken +great trouble, and at dessert he himself brought in a +set dish that evoked loud cries of wonderment. To +begin with, at its base was a square of blue cardboard, +representing a temple with porticoes, colonnades, +and stucco statuettes all round, and in the niches +were constellations of gilt paper stars; on the second +stage was a dungeon of Savoy cake, surrounded by +many fortifications in candied angelica, almonds, +raisins, and quarters of oranges; and finally, on the +upper layer was a green field with rocks set in lakes +of jam, nutshell boats, and a small Cupid balancing +himself in a chocolate swing, whose two uprights +ended in real roses for balls at the top.</p> + +<p>Until night they ate. When any of them were +too tired of sitting, they went out for a stroll in the +yard, or for a game with corks in the granary, and +then returned to table. Toward the finish some went +to sleep and snored. But with the coffee every one +woke up. Then they began songs, showed off tricks, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_035" id="Page_035">[35]</a></span> +raised heavy weights, performed feats with their +fingers, then tried lifting carts on their shoulders, +made broad jokes, kissed the women. At night when +they left, the horses, stuffed up to the nostrils with +oats, could hardly be got into the shafts; they kicked, +reared, the harness broke, their masters laughed or +swore; and all night in the light of the moon along +country roads there were runaway carts at full gallop +plunging into the ditches, jumping over yard after +yard of stones, clambering up the hills, with women +leaning out from the tilt to catch hold of the reins.</p> + +<p>Those who stayed at the Bertaux spent the night +drinking in the kitchen. The children had fallen +asleep under the seats.</p> + +<p>The bride had begged her father to be spared the +usual marriage pleasantries. However, a fishmonger, +one of their cousins (who had even brought a pair of +soles for his wedding present), began to squirt water +from his mouth through the keyhole, when old Rouault +came up just in time to stop him, and explain +to him that the distinguished position of his son-in-law +would not allow of such liberties. The cousin +all the same did not give in to these reasons readily. +In his heart he accused old Rouault of being proud, +and he joined four or five other guests in a corner, +who having, through mere chance, been several times +running served with the worst helps of meat, also +were of opinion they had been badly used, and were +whispering about their host, and with covered hints +hoping he would ruin himself.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary, senior, had not opened her mouth +all day. She had been consulted neither as to the +dress of her daughter-in-law nor as to the arrangement +of the feast; she went to bed early. Her husband, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_036" id="Page_036">[36]</a></span> +instead of following her, sent to Saint-Victor +for some cigars, and smoked till daybreak, drinking +kirsch-punch, a mixture unknown to the company. +This added greatly to the consideration in which he +was held.</p> + +<p>Charles, who was not of a facetious turn, did not +shine at the wedding. He answered feebly to the +puns, <i>doubles entendres</i>, compliments, and chaff that +it was felt a duty to let off at him as soon as the +soup appeared.</p> + +<p>The next day, on the other hand, he seemed another +man. It was he who might rather have been +taken for the virgin of the evening before, whilst the +bride gave no sign that revealed anything. The +shrewdest did not know what to make of it, and they +looked at her when she passed near them with an +unbounded concentration of mind. But Charles concealed +nothing. He called her "my wife," <i><ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: the word tutoyéd is unclear in the original">tutoyéd</ins></i> +her, asked for her of every one, looked for her everywhere, +and often he dragged her into the yards +where he could be seen from afar, among the trees +putting his arm round her waist, and walking half +bending over her, ruffling the chemisette of her bodice +with his head.</p> + +<p>Two days after the wedding the married pair left. +Charles, on account of his patients, could not be +away longer. Old Rouault had them driven back in +his cart, and himself accompanied them as far as +Vassonville. Here he embraced his daughter for the +last time, got down, and went his way. When he +had gone about a hundred paces he stopped, and as +he saw the cart disappearing, its wheels turning in +the dust, he gave a deep sigh. Then he remembered +his wedding, the old times, the first pregnancy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_037" id="Page_037">[37]</a></span> +of his wife; he, too, had been very happy the day +when he had taken her from her father to his home, +and had carried her off on a pillion, trotting through +the snow, for it was near Christmas-time, and the +country was all white. She held him by one arm, her +basket hanging from the other; the wind blew the +long lace of her Cauchois head-dress so that it sometimes +flapped across his mouth, and when he turned +his head he saw near him, on his shoulder, her little +rosy face, smiling silently under the gold bands of +her cap. To warm her hands she put them from +time to time in his breast. How long ago it all was! +Their son would have been thirty by now. Then he +looked back and saw nothing on the road. He felt +dreary as an empty house; and tender memories +mingling with the sad thoughts in his brain, addled +by the fumes of the feast, he felt inclined for a moment +to take a turn towards the church. As he was +afraid, however, that this sight would make him yet +more sad, he went directly home.</p> + +<p>Monsieur and Madame Charles arrived at Tostes +about six o'clock. The neighbors came to the windows +to see their doctor's new wife.</p> + +<p>The old servant presented herself, curtsied to her, +apologised for not having dinner ready, and suggested +that madame, in the meantime, should look over her +house.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 102px;"> +<img src="images/i066.jpg" width="102" height="50" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_038" id="Page_038">[38]</a></span></p> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<h4><a name="The_New_Menage" id="The_New_Menage"></a><span class="smcap">The New Ménage.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap067"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span><br />HE brick front was just in a line +with the street, or rather the road. +Behind the door hung a cloak +with a small collar, a bridle, and a +black leather cap, and on the floor +in a corner, were a pair of leggings +still covered with dry mud. On the right was the +one apartment that was both dining and sitting +room. A canary-yellow paper, relieved at the top by +a garland of pale flowers, was puckered everywhere +over the badly-stretched canvas; white calico curtains +with a red border hung crosswise the length of the +window; and on the narrow mantelpiece a clock +with a head of Hippocrates shone resplendent between +two plate candlesticks under oval shades. On +the other side of the passage was Charles's consulting-room, +a little room about six paces wide, with a +table, three chairs, and an office-chair. Volumes of +the "Dictionary of Medical Science," uncut, but the +binding rather the worse for the successive sales +through which they had gone, occupied almost alone +the six shelves of a deal bookcase. The smell of +melted butter penetrated the thin walls when he +saw patients, just as in the kitchen one could hear +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_039" id="Page_039">[39]</a></span> +the people coughing in the consulting-room and recounting +their whole histories. Then, opening on the +yard, where the stable was, came a large dilapidated +room with a stove, now used as a wood-house, cellar, +and pantry, full of old rubbish, of empty casks, +agricultural implements past service, and a mass of +dusty things whose use it was impossible to guess.</p> + +<p>The garden, longer than wide, ran between two +mud walls with espaliered apricots, to a hawthorn +hedge that separated it from the field. In the middle +was a slate sundial on a brick pedestal; four flower-beds +with eglantines surrounded symmetrically the +more useful kitchen-garden bed. At the bottom, under +the spruce bushes, was a curé in plaster reading +his breviary.</p> + +<p>Emma went upstairs. The first room was not furnished, +but in the second, which was their bedroom, +was a mahogany bedstead in an alcove with red +drapery. A shell-box adorned the chest of drawers, +and on the secretary near the window a bouquet of +orange blossoms tied with white satin ribbons stood +in a bottle. It was a bride's bouquet; it was the +other one's. She looked at it. Charles noticed it; he +took it and carried it up to the attic, while Emma, +seated in an armchair (they were putting her things +down around her) thought of her bridal flowers +packed up in a bandbox, and wondered, dreaming, +what would be done with them if she were to die.</p> + +<p>During the first days she occupied herself in thinking +about changes in the house. She took the shades +off the candlesticks, had new wall-paper put up, the +staircase repainted, and seats made in the garden +round the sundial; she even inquired how she could +get a basin with a jet fountain and fishes. Finally, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_040" id="Page_040">[40]</a></span> +her husband, knowing that she liked to drive out, +picked up a second-hand <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: "dogcart" without a hyphen">dog-cart</ins>, which, with new +lamps and a splash-board in striped leather, looked +almost like a tilbury.</p> + +<p>He was happy then, and without a care in the +world. A meal together, a walk in the evening on +the highroad, a gesture of her hands over her hair, +the sight of her straw hat hanging from the window-fastener, +and many another thing in which Charles +had never dreamed of pleasure, now made up the +endless round of his happiness. In bed, in the morning, +by her side, on the pillow, he watched the sunlight +sinking into the down on her fair cheek, half +hidden by the lappets of her nightcap. Seen thus +closely, her eyes looked to him enlarged, especially +when, on waking up, she opened and shut them rapidly +many times. Black in the shade, dark blue in +broad daylight, they had, as it were, depths of different +colors, that, darker in the center, grew paler toward +the surface of the eye. His own eyes lost +themselves in these depths; he saw himself in miniature +down to the shoulders, with his handkerchief +round his head and the top of his shirt open. He +rose. She came to the window to see him off, and +stayed leaning on the sill between two pots of geranium, +clad in her dressing-gown hanging loosely +about her. Charles in the street buckled his spurs, +his foot on the mounting stone, while she talked to +him from above, picking with her mouth some scrap +of flower or leaf that she blew out at him. Then +this, eddying, floating, described semicircles in the air +like a bird, and was caught before it reached the +ground in the ill-groomed mane of the old white mare +standing motionless at the door. Charles from horseback +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_041" id="Page_041">[41]</a></span> +threw her a kiss; she answered with a nod; +she shut the window, and he set off. And then along +the highroad, spreading out its long ribbon of dust, +along the deep lanes that the trees bent over as in +arbors, along paths where the corn reached to the +knees, with the sun on his back and the morning air +in his nostrils, his heart full of the joys of the past +night, his mind at rest, his flesh at ease, he went on, +re-chewing his happiness, like those who after dinner +taste again the truffles which they are digesting.</p> + +<p>Until now what good had he had of his life? His +time at school, when he remained shut up within +the high walls, alone, in the midst of companions +richer than he or cleverer at their work, who laughed +at his accent, who jeered at his clothes, and whose +mothers came to the school with cakes in their +muffs? Or later, when he studied medicine, and +never had his purse full enough to treat some little +work-girl who would have become his mistress? +Afterwards, he had lived fourteen months with the +widow, whose feet in bed were cold as icicles. +But now he had for life this beautiful woman whom +he adored. For him the universe did not extend beyond +the circumference of her petticoat, and he reproached +himself with not loving her. He wanted to +see her again; he turned back quickly, ran up the +stairs with a beating heart. Emma, in her room, +was dressing; he came up on tiptoe, kissed her +back; she gave a cry.</p> + +<p>He could not keep from continually touching her +comb, her rings, her fichu; sometimes he gave +her great sounding kisses with all his mouth on +her cheeks, or else little kisses in a row all along her +bare arm from the tip of her fingers up to her shoulder, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_042" id="Page_042">[42]</a></span> +and she put him away half-smiling, half-vexed, +as you do a child who hangs about you.</p> + +<p>Before marriage she thought herself in love; but +the happiness that should have followed this love not +having come, she must, she thought, have been +mistaken. And Emma tried to find out what one +meant exactly in life by the words <i>felicity</i>, <i>passion</i>, +<i>rapture</i>, that had seemed to her so beautiful in +books.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 155px;"> +<img src="images/i071.jpg" width="118" height="50" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_043" id="Page_043">[43]</a></span></p> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<h4><a name="A_Maidens_Yearnings" id="A_Maidens_Yearnings"></a><span class="smcap">A Maiden's Yearnings.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap072"><span class="dropcap">S</span></span><br />HE had read "Paul and Virginia," +and she had dreamed of the little +bamboo-house, the nigger Domingo, +the dog Fidèle, but above +all the sweet friendship of some +dear little brother, who seeks red +fruit for you on trees taller than steeples, or who +runs barefoot over the sand, bringing you a bird's +nest.</p> + +<p>When she was thirteen, her father himself took +her to town to place her in the convent. They +stopped at an inn in the St. Gervais quarter, where, +at their supper, they used painted plates that set +forth the story of Mademoiselle de la Vallière. The +explanatory legends, chipped here and there by the +scratching of knives, all glorified religion, the tendernesses +of the heart, and the pomps of court.</p> + +<p>Far from being bored at first at the convent, she +took pleasure in the society of the good sisters who, +to amuse her, took her to the chapel, which one entered +from the refectory by a long corridor. She +played very little during recreation hours, knew her +catechism well, and it was she who always answered +Monsieur le Vicaire's difficult questions. Living thus, +without ever leaving the warm atmosphere of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_044" id="Page_044">[44]</a></span> +class-rooms, and amid these pale-faced women wearing +rosaries with brass crosses, she was softly lulled +by the mystic languor exhaled in the perfumes of the +altar, the freshness of the holy water, and the lights +of the tapers. Instead of attending to mass, she +looked at the pious vignettes with their azure borders +in her book, and she loved the sick lamb, the sacred +heart pierced with sharp arrows, or the poor Jesus +sinking beneath the cross he carries. She tried, by +way of mortification, to eat nothing a whole day. +She puzzled her head to find some vow to fulfill.</p> + +<p>When she went to confession, she invented little +sins in order that she might stay there longer, kneeling +in the shadow, her hands joined, her face against +the grating beneath the whispering of the priest. +The comparisons of betrothed, husband, celestial lover, +and eternal marriage, that recur in sermons, stirred +within her soul depths of unexpected sweetness.</p> + +<p>In the evening, before prayers, there was some +religious reading in the study. On week-nights it +was some abstract of sacred history or the Lectures +of the Abbé Frayssinous, and on Sundays passages +from the "Génie du Christianisme," as a recreation. +How she listened at first to the sonorous lamentations +of its romantic melancholies re-echoing through the +world and eternity! If her childhood had been spent +in the shop-parlor of some business quarter, she +might perhaps have opened her heart to those lyrical +invasions of Nature, which usually come to us only +through translation in books. But she knew the +country too well; she knew the lowing of cattle, the +milking, the plow. Accustomed to calm aspects of +life, she turned, on the contrary, to those of excitement. +She loved the sea only for the sake of its +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_045" id="Page_045">[45]</a></span> +storms, and the green fields only when broken up by +ruins. She wanted to get some personal profit out of +things, and she rejected as useless all that did not +contribute to the immediate desires of her heart, being +of a temperament more sentimental than artistic, +looking for emotions, not landscapes.</p> + +<p>At the convent there was an old maid who came +for a week each month to mend the linen. Patronized +by the clergy, because she belonged to an ancient +family of noblemen ruined by the Revolution, she +dined in the refectory at the table of the good sisters, +and after the meal had a bit of chat with them before +going back to her work. The girls often slipped out +from the study to go and see her. She knew by +heart the love-songs of the last century, and sang +them in a low voice as she stitched away. She told +stories, gave them news, went errands in the town, +and on the sly lent the big girls some novel, that +she always carried in the pockets of her apron, and +of which the good lady herself swallowed long chapters +in the intervals of her work. They were all love, +lovers, sweethearts, persecuted ladies fainting in lonely +pavilions, postilions killed at every stage, horses ridden +to death on every page, somber forests, heartaches, +vows, sobs, tears and kisses, little skiffs by +moonlight, nightingales in shady groves, "gentlemen" +brave as lions, gentle as lambs, virtuous as no one +ever was, always well dressed, and weeping like +fountains. For six months, then, Emma, at fifteen +years of age, made her hands dirty with books from +old lending libraries. With Walter Scott, later on, +she fell in love with historical events, dreamed of old +chests, guardrooms and minstrels. She would have +liked to live in some old manor-house, like those +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_046" id="Page_046">[46]</a></span> +long-waisted châtelaines who, in the shade of pointed +arches, spent their days leaning on the stone, chin in +hand, watching a cavalier with white plume galloping +on his black horse from the distant fields. At this +time she had a cult for Mary Stuart and enthusiastic +veneration for illustrious or unhappy women. Joan of +Arc, Héloise, Agnès Sorel, the beautiful Ferronnière, +and Clémence Isaure stood out to her like comets +in the dark immensity of heaven, where also were +seen, lost in shadow and all unconnected, St. Louis +with his oak, the dying Bayard, some cruelties of +Louis XI, a little of St. Bartholomew's, the plume of +the Béarnais, and always the remembrance of the +plates painted in honor of Louis XIV.</p> + +<p>In the music-class, in the ballads she sang, there +was nothing but little angels with golden wings, madonnas, +lagunes, gondoliers;—mild compositions that +allowed her to catch a glimpse athwart the obscurity +of style and the weakness of the music of the attractive +phantasmagoria of sentimental realities. Some of +her companions brought "keepsakes" given them as +New Year's gifts to the convent. These had to be +hidden; it was quite an undertaking; they were read +in the dormitory. Delicately handling the beautiful +satin bindings, Emma looked with dazzled eyes at +the names of the unknown authors, who had signed +their verses for the most part as counts or viscounts.</p> + +<p>She trembled as she blew back the tissue paper +over the engraving and saw it folded in two and fall +gently against the page. Here behind the balustrade +of a balcony was a young man in a short cloak, +holding in his arms a young girl in a white dress +wearing an alms-bag at her belt; or there were nameless +portraits of English ladies with fair curls, who +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_047" id="Page_047">[47]</a></span> +looked at you from under their round straw hats with +their large clear eyes. Some there were lounging in +their carriages, gliding through parks, a greyhound +bounding along in front of the equipage, driven at a +trot by two small postilions in white breeches. Others, +dreaming on sofas with an open letter, gazed at the +moon through a slightly open window half draped by +a black curtain. The naïve ones, a tear on their +cheeks, were kissing doves through the bars of a +Gothic cage, or, smiling, their heads on one side, +were plucking the leaves of a marguerite with their +taper fingers, that curved at the tips like peaked shoes. +And you too were there, Sultans with long pipes, reclining +beneath arbors in the arms of Bayadères; +Djiaours, Turkish sabers, Greek caps; and you especially, +pale landscapes of dithyrambic lands, that often +show us at once palm-trees and firs, tigers on the +right, a lion to the left, Tartar minarets on the horizon; +the whole framed by a very neat virgin forest, +and with a great perpendicular sunbeam trembling in +the water, where, standing out in relief like white +excoriations on a steel-grey ground, swans are swimming +about.</p> + +<p>And the shade of the argand lamp fastened to the +wall above Emma's head lighted up all these pictures +of the world, that passed before her one by one in +the silence of the dormitory, to the distant noise of +some belated carriage rolling over the Boulevards.</p> + +<p>When her mother died she cried much the first +few days. She had a funeral picture made with the +hair of the deceased, and, in a letter sent to the Bertaux +full of sad reflections on life, she asked to be +buried some day in the same grave. The goodman +thought she must be ill, and came to see her. Emma +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_048" id="Page_048">[48]</a></span> +was secretly pleased that she had reached at a first attempt +the rare ideal of pale lives, never attained by +mediocre hearts. She let herself glide along with +Lamartine meanderings, listened to harps on lakes, to +all the songs of dying swans, to the falling of the +leaves, the pure virgins ascending to heaven, and the +voice of the Eternal discoursing down the valleys. +She wearied of it, would not confess it, continued +from habit, and at last was surprised to feel herself +soothed, and with no more sadness at heart than +wrinkles on her brow.</p> + +<p>The good nuns, who had been so sure of her vocation, +perceived with great astonishment that Mademoiselle +Rouault seemed to be slipping from them. +They had indeed been so lavish to her of prayers, retreats, +novenas, and sermons, they had so often +preached the respect due to saints and martyrs, and +given so much good advice as to the modesty of the +body and the salvation of her soul, that she did as +tightly reined horses: she pulled up short and the +bit slipped from her teeth. This nature, positive in +the midst of its enthusiasms, that had loved the church +for the sake of the flowers, and music for the words +of the songs, and literature for its passional stimulus, +rebelled against the mysteries of faith as it grew irritated +by discipline, a thing antipathetic to her constitution. +When her father took her from school, no +one was sorry to see her go. The Lady Superior even +thought that she had latterly been somewhat irreverent +to the community.</p> + +<p>Emma at home once more, first took pleasure in +looking after the servants, then grew disgusted with +the country and missed her convent. When Charles +came to the Bertaux for the first time, she thought +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_049" id="Page_049">[49]</a></span> +herself quite disillusioned, with nothing more to +learn, and nothing more to feel.</p> + +<p>But the uneasiness of her new position, or perhaps +the disturbance caused by the presence of this +man, had sufficed to make her believe that she at +last felt that wondrous passion which, till then, like +a great bird with rose-colored wings, had hung in the +splendor of the skies of poesy; and now she could +not think that the calm in which she lived was the +happiness she had dreamed.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 155px;"> +<img src="images/i078.jpg" width="105" height="100" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_050" id="Page_050">[50]</a></span></p> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Disillusion" id="Disillusion"></a><span class="smcap">Disillusion.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap079"><span class="dropcap">S</span></span><br />HE thought sometimes that, after all, +this was the happiest time of her +life—the honeymoon, as people +called it. To taste the full sweetness +of it, it would have been +necessary doubtless to fly to those +lands with sonorous names where the days after marriage +are full of laziness most suave. In post-chaises +behind blue silken curtains to ride slowly up steep +roads, listening to the song of the postilion re-echoed +by the mountains, along with the bells of goats and the +muffled sound of a waterfall; at sunset on the shores +of gulfs to breathe in the perfume of lemon-trees; +then in the evening on the villa-terraces above, hand +in hand to look at the stars, making plans for the +future. It seemed to her that certain places on earth +must bring happiness, as a plant peculiar to the +soil, that cannot thrive elsewhere. Why could not +she lean over balconies in Swiss châlets, or enshrine +her melancholy in a Scotch cottage, with a husband +dressed in a black velvet coat with long tails, and +thin shoes, a pointed hat and frills?</p> + +<p>Perhaps she would have liked to confide all these +things to some one. But how tell an undefinable +uneasiness, variable as the clouds, unstable as the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_051" id="Page_051">[51]</a></span> +winds? Words failed her—the opportunity, the +courage.</p> + +<p>If Charles had but wished it, if he had guessed it, +if his look had but once met her thought, it seemed +to her that a sudden plenty would have gone out +from her heart, as the fruit falls from a tree when +shaken by a hand. But as the intimacy of their life +became deeper, the greater became the gulf that separated +her from him.</p> + +<p>Charles's conversation was commonplace as a street +pavement, and every one's ideas trooped through it +in their everyday garb, without exciting emotion, +laughter, or thought. He had never had the curiosity, +he said, while he lived at Rouen, to go to the theatre +to see the actors from Paris. He could neither swim, +nor fence, nor shoot, and one day he could not explain +some term of horsemanship to her that she had +come across in a novel.</p> + +<p>A man, on the contrary, should he not know +everything, excel in manifold activities, initiate you +into the energies of passion, the refinements of life, +all mysteries? But this one taught nothing, knew +nothing, wished nothing. He thought her happy; +and she resented this easy calm, this serene heaviness, +the very happiness she gave him.</p> + +<p>Sometimes she would draw; and it was great +amusement to Charles to stand there bolt upright and +watch her bend over her cardboard, with eyes half-closed +the better to see her work, or rolling, between +her fingers, little bread-pellets. As to the piano, the +more quickly her fingers glided over it the more he +wondered. She struck the notes with aplomb, and +ran from top to bottom of the keyboard without a +break. Thus shaken up, the old instrument, whose +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_052" id="Page_052">[52]</a></span> +strings buzzed, could be heard at the other end of +the village when the window was open, and often +the bailiff's clerk, passing along the highroad bareheaded +and in list slippers, stopped to listen, his sheet +of paper in his hand.</p> + +<p>Emma, on the other hand, knew how to look after +her house. She sent the patients' accounts in well-phrased +letters that had no suggestion of a bill. When +they had a neighbor to dinner on Sundays, she managed +to have some dainty dish—piled up pyramids of +green-gages on vine leaves, served up preserves turned +out into plates—and even spoke of buying finger-glasses +for dessert. From all this, much consideration +was extended to Bovary.</p> + +<p>Charles finished by rising in his own esteem for +possessing such a wife. He showed with pride in +the sitting-room two small pencil sketches by her +that he had had framed in very large frames, and hung +up against the wall-paper by long green cords. People +returning from mass saw him at his door in his +wool-work slippers.</p> + +<p>He came home late—at ten o'clock, at midnight +sometimes. Then he asked for something to eat, and +as the servant had gone to bed, Emma waited on him. +He took off his coat to dine more at his ease. He +told her, one after the other, the people he had met, +the villages where he had been, the prescriptions he +had written, and, well pleased with himself, he finished +the remainder of the boiled beef and onions, +picked pieces off the cheese, munched an apple, emptied +his water-bottle, and then went to bed, and lay +on his back and snored.</p> + +<p>As he had been for a time accustomed to wear +nightcaps, his handkerchief would not keep down over +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_053" id="Page_053">[53]</a></span> +his ears, so that his hair in the morning was all tumbled +pell-mell about his face and whitened with the +feathers of the pillow, whose strings came untied during +the night. He always wore thick boots that had two +long creases over the instep running obliquely towards +the ankle, while the rest of the upper continued in +a straight line as if stretched on a wooden foot. He +said that was "quite good enough for the country."</p> + +<p>His mother approved of his economy, for she came +to see him as formerly when there had been some +violent scene at her place; and yet Madame Bovary +senior seemed prejudiced against her daughter-in-law. +She thought "her ways too fine for their position;" +the wood, the sugar, and the candles disappeared as +at "a grand establishment," and the amount of firing +in the kitchen would have been enough for twenty-five +courses. She put her linen in order for her in +the presses, and taught her to keep an eye on the +butcher when he brought the meat. Emma put up +with these lessons. Madame Bovary was lavish of +them; and the words "daughter" and "mother" +were exchanged all day long, accompanied by little +quiverings of the lips, each one uttering gentle words +in a voice trembling with anger.</p> + +<p>In Madame Dubuc's time the old woman felt that +she was still the favorite; but now the love of Charles +for Emma seemed to her a desertion from her tenderness, +an encroachment upon what was hers, and she +watched her son's happiness in sad silence, as a ruined +man looks through the windows at people dining in +his old house. She recalled to him as remembrances +her troubles and her sacrifices, and, comparing these +with Emma's negligence, came to the conclusion that +it was not reasonable to adore her so exclusively.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_054" id="Page_054">[54]</a></span> +Charles knew not what to answer: he respected +his mother, and he loved his wife infinitely; he considered +the judgment of the one infallible, and yet +he thought the conduct of the other irreproachable. +When Madame Bovary had gone he tried timidly and +in the same terms to hazard one or two of the more +anodyne observations he had heard from his mamma +Emma proved to him with a word that he was mistaken, +and sent him off to his patients.</p> + +<p>And yet, in accord with theories she believed right, +she desired to make herself in love with him. By +moonlight in the garden she recited all the passionate +rhymes she knew by heart, and, sighing, sang to him +many melancholy adagios; but she found herself as +calm after this as before, and Charles seemed no more +amorous and no more moved.</p> + +<p>When she had thus for a while struck the flint of +her heart without getting a spark, incapable, moreover, +of understanding what she did not experience +as of believing anything that did not present itself in +conventional forms, she persuaded herself without difficulty +that Charles's passion was nothing very exorbitant. +His outbursts became regular; he embraced +her at certain fixed times. It was one habit among +other habits, and, like a dessert, looked forward to +after the monotony of dinner.</p> + +<p>A gamekeeper, cured by the doctor of inflammation +of the lungs, had given madame a little Italian +greyhound; she took her out walking, for she went +out sometimes in order to be alone for a moment, and +not to see before her eyes the eternal garden and the +dusty road. She went as far as the beeches of +Banneville, near the deserted pavilion which forms an +angle of the wall on the side of the country. Amid +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_055" id="Page_055">[55]</a></span> +the vegetation of the ditch there are long reeds with +leaves that cut.</p> + +<p>She began by looking round her to see if nothing +had changed since last she had been there. She found +again in the same places the foxgloves and wallflowers, +the beds of nettles growing round the big stones, +and the patches of lichen along the three windows, +whose shutters, always closed, were rotting away on +their rusty iron bars. Her thoughts, aimless at first, +wandered at random, like her greyhound, who ran +round and round in the fields, yelping after the yellow +butterflies, chasing the shrew-mice, or nibbling the +poppies on the edge of a cornfield. Then gradually +her ideas took definite shape, and, sitting on the grass +that she dug up with little prods of her sunshade, +Emma repeated to herself, "Good heavens! why did +I marry?"</p> + +<p>She asked herself if by some other chance combination +it would not have been possible to meet +another man; and she tried to imagine what would +have been these unrealized events, this different life, +this unknown husband. All, surely, could not be like +this one. He might have been handsome, witty, distinguished, +attractive, such as, no doubt, her old companions +of the convent had married. What were they +doing now? In town, with the noise of the streets, +the buzz of the theaters, and the lights of the ball-room, +they were living lives where the heart expands, the +senses bourgeon out. But she—her life was cold as +a garret whose dormer-window looks on the north, +and ennui, the silent spider, was weaving its web in +the darkness in every corner of her heart. She recalled +the prize-days, when she mounted the platform to +receive her little crowns, with her hair in long plaits. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_056" id="Page_056">[56]</a></span> +In her white frock and open prunella shoes she had +a pretty way, and when she went back to her seat, +the gentlemen bent over her to congratulate her; the +courtyard was full of carriages; farewells were called +to her through their windows; the music-master with +his violin-case bowed in passing by. How far off all +this! How far away!</p> + +<p>She called Djali, took her between her knees, and +smoothed the long, delicate head, saying, "Come, kiss +mistress; you have no troubles."</p> + +<p>Then noting the melancholy face of the graceful +animal, who yawned slowly, she softened, and comparing +her to herself, spoke to her aloud as to somebody +in trouble whom one is consoling.</p> + +<p>Occasionally there came gusts of wind, breezes from +the sea rolling in one sweep over the whole plateau +of the Caux country, which brought even to these +fields a salt freshness. The rushes, close to the ground, +whistled; the branches trembled in a swift rustling, +while their summits, ceaselessly swaying, kept up a +deep murmur. Emma drew her shawl round her +shoulders and rose.</p> + +<p>In the avenue a green light dimmed by the leaves +lighted the short moss that crackled softly beneath her +feet. The sun was setting; the sky showed red between +the branches, and the trunks of the trees, uniform, +and planted in a straight line, seemed a brown colonnade +standing out against a background of gold. A fear took +hold of her; she called Djali, and hurriedly returned +to Tostes by the highroad, threw herself into an armchair, +and for the rest of the evening did not speak.</p> + +<p>But towards the end of September something extraordinary +fell upon her life; she was invited by the +Marquis d'Andervilliers to Vaubyessard.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_057" id="Page_057">[57]</a></span> +Secretary of State under the Restoration, the Marquis, +anxious to re-enter political life, set about preparing +for his candidature to the Chamber of Deputies long +beforehand. In the winter he distributed a great deal +of wood, and in the Conseil Général always enthusiastically +demanded new roads for his arrondissement. +During the dog-days he had suffered from an abscess, +which Charles had cured as if by miracle by giving a +timely little touch with the lancet. The steward sent +to Tostes to pay for the operation reported in the evening +that he had seen some superb cherries in the +doctor's little garden. Now cherry-trees did not thrive +at Vaubyessard; the Marquis asked Bovary for some +slips; made it his business to thank him personally; +saw Emma; thought she had a pretty figure, and that +she did not bow like a peasant; so that he did not +think he was going beyond the bounds of condescension, +nor, on the other hand, making a mistake, in +inviting the young couple.</p> + +<p>One Wednesday at three o'clock, Monsieur and +Madame Bovary, seated in their dog-cart, set out for +Vaubyessard, with a great trunk strapped on behind +and a bonnet-box in front on the apron. Besides these +Charles held a bandbox between his knees.</p> + +<p>They arrived at nightfall, just as the lamps in the +park were being lighted to show the carriage-drive.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 115px;"> +<img src="images/i086.jpg" width="115" height="75" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_058" id="Page_058">[58]</a></span></p> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Glimpses_Of_The_World" id="Glimpses_Of_The_World"></a><span class="smcap">Glimpses of the World.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap087"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span><br />HE château, a modern building in +Italian style, with two projecting +wings and three flights of steps, +lay at the foot of an immense +green-sward, on which some cows +were grazing among groups of large +trees set out at regular intervals, while large beds of +arbutus, rhododendron, syringas, and guelder roses +bulged out their irregular clusters of green along the +curve of the gravel path. A river flowed under a +bridge; through the mist one could distinguish buildings +with thatched roofs scattered over the field +bordered by two gently-sloping well-timbered hillocks, +and in the background amid the trees rose in two +parallel lines the coach-houses and stables, all that +was left of the ruined old château.</p> + +<p>Charles's dog-cart pulled up before the middle +flight of steps; servants appeared; the Marquis came +forward, and offering his arm to the doctor's wife, +conducted her to the vestibule.</p> + +<p>It was paved with marble slabs, was very lofty, +and the sound of footsteps and that of voices re-echoed +through it as in a church. Opposite rose a straight +staircase, and on the left a gallery overlooking the +garden led to the billiard-room, through whose door +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_059" id="Page_059">[59]</a></span> +one could hear the click of the ivory balls. As she +crossed it to go to the drawing-room, Emma saw +standing round the table men with grave faces, their +chins resting on high cravats. They all wore orders, +and smiled silently as they made their strokes. On +the dark wainscoting of the walls large gold frames +bore at the bottom names written in black letters. +She read:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Jean-Antoine d'Andervilliers d'Yverbonville, Count de la Vaubyessard +and Baron de la Fresnaye, killed at the battle of Coutras on +the 20th of October 1587."</p> + +<p>And on another:</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Jean-Antoine-Henry-Guy d'Andervilliers de la Vaubyessard, Admiral +of France and Chevalier of the Order of St. Michael, wounded +at the battle of the Hougue-Saint-Vaast on the 29th of May 1692; +died at Vaubyessard on the 23rd of January 1693." +</p> + +<p>One could hardly make out those that followed, +for the light of the lamps lowered over the green +cloth threw a dim shadow round the room. Burnishing +the horizontal pictures, it broke up against these +in delicate lines where there were cracks in the varnish, +and from all these great black squares framed +in with gold stood out here and there some lighter +portion of the painting—a pale brow, two eyes that +looked at you, perukes flowing over and powdering +red-coated shoulders, or the buckle of a garter above +a well-rounded calf.</p> + +<p>The Marquis opened the drawing-room door; one of +the ladies (the Marchioness herself) came to meet +Emma. She made her sit down by her on an ottoman, +and began talking to her as amicably as if she +had known her a long time. She was about forty +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_060" id="Page_060">[60]</a></span> +years old, with fine shoulders, a hook nose, a +drawling voice, and on this evening she wore over +her brown hair a simple guipure fichu that fell in a +point at the back. A fair young woman was by her +side in a high-backed chair, and gentlemen with +flowers in their buttonholes were talking to ladies +round the fire.</p> + +<p>At seven dinner was served. The men, who were +in the majority, sat down at the first table in the +vestibule; the ladies at the second in the dining-room +with the Marquis and Marchioness.</p> + +<p>Emma, on entering, felt herself wrapped round by +the warm air, a blending of the perfume of flowers +and of the fine linen, of the fumes of the viands, and +the odor of the truffles. The silver dish-covers reflected +the lighted wax candles in the candelabra, the +cut crystal covered with light steam reflected pale rays +from one to the other; bouquets were placed in a row +the whole length of the table; and in the large-bordered +plates each napkin, arranged after the fashion of +a bishop's miter, held between its two gaping folds a +small oval-shaped roll. The red claws of lobsters +hung over the dishes; rich fruit in open baskets was +piled up on moss; there were quails in their plumage; +smoke was rising; and in silk stockings, knee-breeches, +white cravat, and frilled shirt, the steward, +grave as a judge, offered ready-carved dishes between +the shoulders of the guests, and with a touch of the +spoon gave the piece chosen. On the large stove of +porcelain inlaid with copper baguettes the statue of a +woman, draped to the chin, gazed motionless on the +room full of life.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary noticed that many ladies had not +put their gloves in their glasses.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_061" id="Page_061">[61]</a></span> +But at the upper end of the table, alone among +all those women, bent over his full plate, with his napkin +tied round his neck like a child, an old man sat +eating, letting drops of gravy drip from his mouth. +His eyes were bloodshot, and he wore a little queue +tied with a black ribbon. He was the Marquis's +father-in-law, the old Duke de Laverdière, once on a +time favorite of the Count d'Artois, in the days of the +Vaudreuil hunting-parties at the Marquis de Conflans', +and had been, it was said, the lover of Queen Marie +Antoinette, between Monsieur de Coigny and Monsieur +de Lauzun. He had lived a life of noisy debauch, +full of duels, bets, elopements; he had squandered +his fortune and frightened all his family. A servant +behind his chair named aloud to him in his ear +the dishes that he pointed to, stammering, and constantly +Emma's eyes turned involuntarily to this old +man with hanging lips, as to something extraordinary. +He had lived at court and slept in the bed +of queens!</p> + +<p>Iced champagne was poured out. Emma shivered +all over as she felt it cold in her mouth. She had +never seen pomegranates nor tasted pine-apples. The +powdered sugar even seemed to her whiter and finer +than elsewhere.</p> + +<p>The ladies afterward went to their rooms to prepare +for the ball.</p> + +<p>Emma made her toilet with the fastidious care of +an actress on her début. She did her hair according +to the directions of the hairdresser, and put on the +barège dress spread out upon the bed. Charles's trousers +were tight across the belly.</p> + +<p>"My trouser-straps will be rather awkward for +dancing," he said.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_062" id="Page_062">[62]</a></span> +"Dancing?" repeated Emma.</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"Why, you must be mad! They would make fun +of you; keep your place. Besides, it is more becoming +for a doctor," she added.</p> + +<p>Charles was silent. He walked up and down +waiting for Emma to finish dressing.</p> + +<p>He saw her from behind in the glass between two +lights. Her black eyes seemed blacker than ever. +Her hair, undulating toward the ears, shone with a +blue luster; a rose in her chignon trembled on its mobile +stalk, with artificial dewdrops on the tips of the +leaves. She wore a gown of pale saffron trimmed +with three bouquets of pompon roses mixed with +green.</p> + +<p>Charles came and kissed her on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone!" she said; "you are tumbling +me."</p> + +<p>One could hear the flourish of the violin and the +notes of a horn. She went downstairs restraining +herself from running.</p> + +<p>Dancing had begun. Guests were arriving. There +was some crushing. She sat down on a form near +the door.</p> + +<p>The quadrille over, the floor was occupied by +groups of men standing up and talking and servants +in livery bearing large trays. Along the line of seated +women painted fans were fluttering, bouquets half-hid +smiling faces, and gold-stoppered scent-bottles +were turned in partly-closed hands, whose white +gloves outlined the nails and tightened on the flesh +at the wrists. Lace trimmings, diamond brooches, +medallion bracelets trembled on bodices, gleamed on +breasts, clinked on bare arms. The hair, well +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_063" id="Page_063">[63]</a></span> +smoothed over the temples and knotted at the nape, +bore crowns, or bunches, or sprays of myosotis, jasmine, +pomegranate blossoms, ears of corn, and cornflowers. +Calmly seated in their places, mothers with +forbidding countenances were wearing red turbans.</p> + +<p>Emma's heart beat rather faster when, her partner +holding her by the tips of the fingers, she took her +place in a line with the dancers, and waited for the +first note to start. But her emotion soon vanished, +and, swaying to the rhythm of the orchestra, she +glided forward with slight movements of the neck. +A smile rose to her lips at certain delicate phrases of +the violin, that sometimes played alone while the +other instruments were silent; one could hear the +clear clink of the louis-d'or that were being thrown +down upon the card-tables in the next room; then all +struck in again, the cornet-à-piston uttered its sonorous +note, feet marked time, skirts swelled and +rustled, hands touched and parted; the same eyes +falling before you met yours again.</p> + +<p>A few men (some fifteen or so), of twenty-five to +forty, scattered here and there among the dancers or +talking at the doorways, distinguished themselves +from the crowd by a certain air of breeding, whatever +their differences in age, dress, or face.</p> + +<p>Their clothes, better made, seemed of finer cloth, +and their hair, brought forward in curls towards the +temples, glossy with more delicate pomades. They +had the complexion of wealth,—that clear complexion +that is heightened by the pallor of porcelain, the shimmer +of satin, the veneer of old furniture, and that an +ordered regimen of exquisite nurture maintains at its +best. Their necks moved easily in their low cravats, +their long whiskers fell over their turned-down collars, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_064" id="Page_064">[64]</a></span> +they wiped their lips upon handkerchiefs, with +embroidered initials, that gave forth a subtle perfume. +Those who were beginning to grow old had an air +of youth, while there was something mature in the +faces of the young. In their unconcerned looks was +the calm of passions daily satiated, and through all +their gentleness of manner pierced that peculiar brutality, +the result of a command of half-easy things, in +which force is exercised and vanity amused—the +management of thoroughbred horses and the society +of loose women.</p> + +<p>A few steps from Emma a gentleman in a blue coat +was talking of Italy with a pale young woman wearing +a parure of pearls.</p> + +<p>They were praising the breadth of the columns of +St. Peter's, Tivoli, Vesuvius, Castellamare, and Cassines, +the roses of Genoa, the Coliseum by moonlight. +With her other ear Emma was listening to a +conversation full of words she did not understand. +A circle gathered round a very young man who the +week before had beaten "Miss Arabella" and "Romulus," +and won two thousand louis jumping a ditch +in England. One complained that his racehorses +were growing fat; another of the printers' errors +that had disfigured the name of his horse.</p> + +<p>The atmosphere of the ball was heavy; the lamps +were growing dim. Guests were flocking to the +billiard-room. A servant got upon a chair and +broke the window-panes. At the crash of the glass +Madame Bovary turned her head and saw in the garden +the faces of peasants pressed against the window +looking in at them. Then the memory of the Bertaux +came back to her. She saw the farm again, the +muddy pond, her father in a blouse under the apple-trees, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_065" id="Page_065">[65]</a></span> +and she saw herself again as formerly, skimming +with her finger the cream off the milk-pans in +the dairy. But in the refulgence of the present hour +her past life, so distinct until then, faded away completely, +and she almost doubted having lived it. She +was there; beyond the ball was only shadow overspreading +all the rest. She was just eating a maraschino +ice that she held with her left hand in a +silver-gilt cup, her eyes half-closed, and the spoon +between her teeth.</p> + +<p>A lady near her dropped her fan. A gentleman +was passing.</p> + +<p>"Would you be so good," said the lady, "as to +pick up my fan that has fallen behind the sofa?"</p> + +<p>The gentleman bowed, and as he moved to stretch +out his arm, Emma saw the hand of the young +woman throw something white, folded in a triangle, +into his hat. The gentleman picking up the fan, +offered it to the lady respectfully; she thanked him +with an inclination of the head, and began smelling +her bouquet.</p> + +<p>After supper, where were plenty of Spanish and +Rhine wines, soups <i>à la bisque</i> and <i>au lait d'amandes</i>, +puddings <i>à la Trafalgar</i>, and all sorts of cold meats +with jellies that trembled in the dishes, the carriages +one after the other began to drive off. Raising the +corner of the muslin curtain, one could see the light +of their lanterns glimmering through the darkness. +The seats began to empty, some card-players were +still left; the musicians were cooling the tips of their +fingers on their tongues. Charles was half asleep, +his back propped against a door.</p> + +<p>At three o'clock the cotillion began. Emma did +not know how to waltz. Every one was waltzing, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_066" id="Page_066">[66]</a></span> +Mademoiselle d'Andervilliers herself and the Marquis +only the guests staying at the castle were still there +about a dozen persons.</p> + +<p>One of the waltzers, however, who was familiarly +called Viscount, and whose low cut waistcoat seemed +moulded to his chest, came a second time to ask +Madame Bovary to dance, assuring her that he would +guide her, and that she would get through it very +well.</p> + +<p>They began slowly, then went more rapidly. +They turned; all around them was turning—the +lamps, the furniture, the wainscoting, the floor, like +a disc on a pivot. On passing near the doors the +bottom of Emma's dress caught against his trousers. +Their legs commingled; he looked down at her; she +raised her eyes to his. A torpor seized her; she +stopped. They started again, and with a more rapid +movement; the Viscount, dragging her along, disappeared +with her to the end of the gallery, where, +panting, she almost fell, and for a moment rested her +head upon his breast. And then, still turning, but +more slowly, he guided her back to her seat. She +leant back against the wall and covered her eyes +with her hands.</p> + +<p>When she opened them again, in the middle of +the drawing-room three waltzers were kneeling before +a lady sitting on a stool. She chose the Viscount, +and the violin struck up once more.</p> + +<p>Every one looked at them. They passed and re-passed, +she with rigid body, her chin bent down, +and he always in the same pose, his figure curved, +his elbow rounded, his chin thrown forward. That +woman knew how to waltz! They kept up a long +time, and tired out all the others.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_067" id="Page_067">[67]</a></span> +Then they talked a few moments longer, and after +the good-nights, or rather good-mornings, the guests +of the château retired to bed.</p> + +<p>Charles dragged himself up by the balusters. His +knees were going up into his body. He had +spent five consecutive hours standing bolt upright at +the card-tables, watching them play whist, without +understanding anything about it, and it was with a +deep sigh of relief that he pulled off his boots.</p> + +<p>Emma threw a shawl over her shoulders, opened +the window, and leant out.</p> + +<p>The night was dark; some drops of rain were falling. +She breathed in the damp wind that refreshed +her eyelids. The music of the ball was still murmuring +in her ears, and she tried to keep herself awake +in order to prolong the illusion of this luxurious life +that she would soon have to give up.</p> + +<p>Day began to break. She looked long at the windows +of the château, trying to guess which were the +rooms of all those she had noticed the evening before. +She would fain have known their lives, have penetrated, +blended with them. But she was shivering +with cold. She undressed, and cowered down between +the sheets against Charles, who was asleep.</p> + +<p>There were a great many people to luncheon. +The repast lasted ten minutes; no liqueurs were served, +which astonished the doctor. Next, Mademoiselle +d'Andervilliers collected some pieces of roll in a small +basket to take them to the swans on the ornamental +waters, and they went to walk in the hot-houses, +where strange plants, bristling with hairs, rose in +pyramids under hanging vases, whence, as from overfilled +nests of serpents, fell long green cords interlacing. +The orangery, which was at the other end, led +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_068" id="Page_068">[68]</a></span> +by a covered way to the outhouses of the château. +The Marquis, to amuse the young woman, took her +to see the stables. Above the basket-shaped racks +porcelain slabs bore the names of the horses in black +letters. Each animal in its stall whisked its tail when +any one went near and said "Tchk! tchk!" The +boards of the harness-room shone like the flooring of +a drawing-room. The carriage harness was piled up +in the middle against two twisted columns, and the +bits, the whips, the spurs, the curbs, were ranged in +a line all along the wall.</p> + +<p>Charles, meanwhile, went to ask a groom to put +his horse to. The dog-cart was brought to the foot +of the steps, and all the parcels being crammed in, +the Bovarys paid their respects to the Marquis and +Marchioness and set out again for Tostes.</p> + +<p>Emma watched the turning wheels in silence. +Charles, on the extreme edge of the seat, held the +reins with his two arms wide apart, and the little +horse ambled along in the shafts that were too big for +him. The loose reins hanging over his crupper were +wet with foam, and the box fastened on behind the +chaise gave great regular bumps against it.</p> + +<p>They were on the heights of Thibourville when +suddenly some horsemen with cigars between their +lips passed, laughing. Emma thought she recognized +the Viscount, turned back, and caught on the horizon +only the movement of the heads rising or falling with +the unequal cadence of the trot or gallop.</p> + +<p>A mile farther on they had to stop to mend with +some string the traces that had broken.</p> + +<p>But Charles, giving a last look to the harness, saw +something on the ground between the horse's legs, +and he picked up a cigar-case with a green silk border +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_069" id="Page_069">[69]</a></span> +and blazoned in the center like the door of a +carriage.</p> + +<p>"There are even two cigars in it," said he; +"they'll do for this evening after dinner."</p> + +<p>"Why, do you smoke?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes, when I get a chance."</p> + +<p>He put his find in his pocket and whipped up the +nag.</p> + +<p>When they reached home the dinner was not +ready. Madame lost her temper. Nastasie answered +rudely.</p> + +<p>"Leave the room!" said Emma. "You are forgetting +yourself. I give you warning."</p> + +<p>For dinner there was onion soup and a piece of +veal with sorrel. Charles, seated opposite Emma, +rubbed his hands gleefully.</p> + +<p>"How good it is to be at home again!"</p> + +<p>Nastasie could be heard crying. He was rather +fond of the poor girl. She had formerly, during the +wearisome time of his widowerhood, kept him company +many an evening. She had been his first patient, +his oldest acquaintance in the place.</p> + +<p>"Have you given her warning for good?" he asked +at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Who is to prevent me?" she replied.</p> + +<p>Then they warmed themselves in the kitchen +while their room was being made ready. Charles +began to smoke. He smoked with his lips protruded, +spitting every moment, recoiling at every puff.</p> + +<p>"You'll make yourself ill," she said scornfully.</p> + +<p>He put down his cigar and ran to swallow a +glass of cold water at the pump. Emma seizing hold +of the cigar-case threw it quickly to the back of the +cupboard.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_070" id="Page_070">[70]</a></span> +The next day was a long one. She walked above +her little garden, up and down the same walks, stopping +before the beds, before the espalier, before the +plaster curate, looking with amazement at all these +things of once-on-a-time that she knew so well. +How far off the ball seemed already! What was it +that thus set so far asunder the morning of the day before +yesterday and the evening of to-day? Her journey +to Vaubyessard had made a hole in her life, like +one of those great crevasses that a storm will sometimes +make in one night in mountains. Still she was +resigned. She devoutly put away in her closets her +beautiful dress, down to the satin shoes whose sole +were yellowed with the slippery wax of the dancing +floor. Her heart was like these. In its friction +against wealth something had come over it that could +not be effaced.</p> + +<p>The memory of this ball, then, became an occupation +for Emma. Whenever the Wednesday came +round she said to herself as she awoke, "Ah! I was +there a week—a fortnight—three weeks ago." And +little by little the faces grew confused in her remembrance. +She forgot the tune of the quadrilles; she no +longer saw the liveries and appointments so distinctly; +some details escaped her, but the regret remained with her.</p> + + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 116px;"> +<img src="images/i099.jpg" width="116" height="70" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_071" id="Page_071">[71]</a></span></p> + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Idle_Dreams" id="Idle_Dreams"></a><span class="smcap">Idle Dreams.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap100"><span class="dropcap">O</span></span><br />FTEN when Charles was out she +took from the cupboard, between +the folds of the linen where she +had left it, the green silk cigar-case. +She looked at it, opened it, +and even smelt the odor of the lining—a +mixture of verbena and tobacco. Whose was +it? The Viscount's? Perhaps it was a present from +his mistress. It had been embroidered on some rosewood +frame, a pretty little thing, hidden from all +eyes, that had occupied many hours, and over which +had fallen the soft curls of the pensive worker. A +breath of love had passed over the stitches on the +canvas; each prick of the needle had fixed there a +hope or a memory, and all those interwoven threads +of silk were but the continuity of the same silent +passion. And then one morning the Viscount had +taken it away with him. Of what had they spoken +when it lay upon the wide-manteled chimneys between +flower-vases and Pompadour clocks? She was +at Tostes; he was at Paris now, far away! What +was this Paris like? What a vague name! She repeated +it in a low voice, for the mere pleasure of it; +it rang in her ears like a great cathedral bell; it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_072" id="Page_072">[72]</a></span> +shone before her eyes, even on the labels of her +pomade-pots.</p> + +<p>At night, when the carriers passed under her +windows in their carts singing the "Marjolaine," she +awoke, and listened to the noise of the iron-bound +wheels, which, as they gained the country road, was +soon deadened by the soil. "They will be there to-morrow!" +she said to herself.</p> + +<p>And she followed them in thought up and down +the hills, traversing villages, gliding along the highroads +by the light of the stars. At the end of some +indefinite distance there was always a confused spot, +into which her dream died.</p> + +<p>She bought a plan of Paris, and with the tip of +her finger on the map she walked about the capital. +She went up the boulevards, stopping at every turning, +between the lines of the streets, in front of the +white squares that represented the houses. At last +she would close the lids of her weary eyes, and see +in the darkness the gas jets flaring in the wind and +the steps of carriages lowered with much noise before +the peristyles of theatres.</p> + +<p>She took in "La Corbeille," a lady's journal, and +the "Sylphe des Salons." She devoured, without +skipping a word, all the accounts of first nights, races, +and soirées, took an interest in the début of a singer, +in the opening of a new shop. She knew the latest +fashions, the addresses of the best tailors, the days of +the Bois and the Opera. In Eugène Sue she studied +descriptions of furniture; she read Balzac and George +Sand, seeking in them imaginary satisfaction for her +own desires. Even at table she had her book by her, +and turned over the pages while Charles ate and talked +to her. The memory of the Viscount always returned +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_073" id="Page_073">[73]</a></span> +as she read. Between him and the imaginary personages +she made comparisons. But the circle of which +he was the centre gradually widened round him, and +the aureole that he bore, fading from his form, broadened +out beyond, lighting up her other dreams.</p> + +<p>Paris, more vague than the ocean, glimmered before +Emma's eyes in an atmosphere of vermilion. The +many lives that stirred amid this tumult were, however, +divided into parts, classed as distinct pictures. +Emma perceived only two or three that hid from her +all the rest, and in themselves represented all humanity. +The world of ambassadors moved over polished +floors in drawing-rooms lined with mirrors, round +oval tables covered with velvet and gold-fringed cloths. +There were skirts with trains; deep mysteries, anguish +hidden beneath smiles. Then came the society +of the duchesses; all were pale; all got up at four +o'clock; the women, poor angels, wore English point +on their petticoats; and the men, unappreciated geniuses +under a frivolous outward seeming, rode horses +to death at pleasure parties, spent the summer season +at Baden, and towards the forties married heiresses. +In the private rooms of restaurants, where one sups +after midnight by the light of wax candles, laughed +the motley crowd of men of letters and actresses. They +were prodigal as kings, full of ideal, ambitious, fantastic +frenzy. This was an existence outside that of all +others, between heaven and earth, in the midst of +storms, having something of the sublime. For the +rest of the world it was lost, with no particular place, +and as if non-existent. The nearer things were, moreover, +the more her thoughts turned away from them. +All her immediate surroundings, the wearisome country, +the middle-class imbeciles, the mediocrity of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_074" id="Page_074">[74]</a></span> +existence, seemed to her exceptional, a peculiar chance +that had caught hold of her, while beyond stretched +as far as eye could see an immense land of joys and +of passions. She confused in her desire the sensualities +of luxury with the delights of the heart, elegance +of manners with delicacy of sentiment. Did not love, +like Indian plants, need a special soil, a particular +temperature? Sighs by moonlight, long embraces, +tears flowing over yielded hands, all the fevers of the +flesh and the languors of tenderness could not be +separated from the balconies of great castles full of +indolence, from boudoirs with silken curtains and +thick carpets, well-filled flower-stands, a bed on a +raised dais, nor from the flashing of precious stones +and the shoulder-knots of liveries.</p> + +<p>The lad from the posting-house, who came to +groom the mare every morning, passed through the +passage with his heavy wooden shoes; there were +holes in his blouse; his feet were bare in list slippers. +And this was the groom in knee-breeches with whom +she had to be content! His work done, he did not +come back again all day, for Charles on his return put +up his horse himself, unsaddled him and put on the +halter, while the servant-girl brought a bundle of straw +and threw it as best she could into the manger.</p> + +<p>To replace Nastasie (who left Tostes shedding torrents +of tears) Emma took into her service a young +girl of fourteen, an orphan with a sweet face. She +forbade her wearing cotton caps, taught her to address +her in the third person, to bring a glass of water on +a plate, to knock before coming into a room, to iron, +starch, and to dress her,—tried to make a lady's-maid +of her. The new servant obeyed without a +murmur, so as not to be sent away; and, as madame +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_075" id="Page_075">[75]</a></span> +usually left the key in the sideboard, Félicité every +evening took a small supply of sugar that she ate alone +in her bed after she had said her prayers.</p> + +<p>Sometimes in the afternoon she went to chat with +the postilions. Madame was in her room upstairs. +She wore an open dressing-gown, that showed between +the shawl facings of her bodice a pleated +chemisette with three gold buttons. Her belt was a +corded girdle with great tassels, and her small garnet-colored +slippers had a large knot of ribbon that fell +over her instep. She had bought herself a blotting-book, +writing-case, pen-holder, and envelopes, although +she had no one to write to; she dusted her what-not, +looked at herself in the glass, picked up a book, and +then, dreaming between the lines, let it drop on her +knees. She longed to travel or to go back to her +convent. She wished at the same time to die and to +live in Paris.</p> + +<p>Charles in snow and rain trotted across country. +He ate omelettes on farmhouse tables, poked his arm +into damp beds, received the tepid spurt of blood-lettings +in his face, listened to death-rattles, examined +basins, turned over a good deal of dirty linen; but every +evening he found a blazing fire, his dinner ready, easy-chairs, +and a well-dressed woman, charming with an +odor of freshness, though no one could say whence +the perfume came, or if it were not her skin that made +odorous her chemise.</p> + +<p>She charmed him by numerous attentions; now it +was some new way of arranging paper sconces for the +candles, a flounce that she altered on her gown, or +an extraordinary name for some very simple dish that +the servant had spoilt, but that Charles swallowed +with pleasure to the last mouthful. At Rouen she saw +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_076" id="Page_076">[76]</a></span> +some ladies who wore a bunch of charms on their +watch-chains; she bought some charms. She wanted +for her mantelpiece two large blue glass vases, and +some time after an ivory <i>nécessaire</i> with a silver-gilt +thimble. The less Charles understood these refinements +the more they seduced him. They added something +to the pleasure of the senses and to the comfort +of his fireside. It was like a golden dust sanding all +along the narrow path of his life.</p> + +<p>He was well, looked well; his reputation was firmly +established. The country-folk loved him because he +was not proud. He petted the children, never went +to the public-house, and, moreover, his morals inspired +confidence. He was specially successful with catarrhs +and chest complaints. Being much afraid of killing +his patients, Charles, in fact, prescribed only sedatives, +from time to time an emetic, a footbath, or leeches. +It was not that he was afraid of surgery; he bled +people copiously like horses, and for the taking out of +teeth he had the "devil's own wrist."</p> + +<p>Finally, to keep up with the times, he took in +"La Ruche Médicale," a new journal whose prospectus +had been sent him. He read it a little after dinner, +but in about five minutes, the warmth of the +room added to the effect of his dinner sent him to +sleep; and he sat there, his chin on his two hands +and his hair spreading like a mane to the foot of the +lamp. Emma looked at him and shrugged her shoulders. +Why, at least, was not her husband one of +those men of taciturn passions who work at their +books all night, and at last, when about sixty, the age +when rheumatism sets in, wear a string of orders on +their ill-fitting black coats? She could have wished +this name of Bovary, which was hers, had been illustrious, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_077" id="Page_077">[77]</a></span> +to see it displayed at the booksellers', repeated +in the newspapers, known to all France. But +Charles had no ambition. An Yvetot doctor whom +he had lately met in consultation had somewhat humiliated +him at the very bedside of the patient, before +the assembled relatives. When, in the evening, Charles +told her this anecdote, Emma inveighed loudly against +his colleague. Charles was much touched. He kissed +her forehead with a tear in his eyes. But she was +angered with shame; she felt a wild desire to strike +him; she went to open the window in the passage +and breathed in the fresh air to calm herself.</p> + +<p>"What a man! what a man!" she said in a low +voice, biting her lips.</p> + +<p>Besides, she was becoming more irritated with him. +As he grew older his manner grew heavier; at dessert +he cut the corks of the empty bottles; after eating he +cleaned his teeth with his tongue; in taking soup he +made a gurgling noise with every spoonful; and, as +he was getting fatter, the puffed-out cheeks seemed +to push the eyes, always small, up to the temples.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Emma tucked the red borders of his +under-vest into his waistcoat, rearranged his cravat, +and threw away the soiled gloves he was going to +put on; and this was not, as he fancied, for himself; +it was for herself, by a diffusion of egotism, of nervous +irritation. Sometimes, too, she told him of what +she had read, such as a passage in a novel, of a new +play, or an anecdote of the "upper ten" that she had +seen in a feuilleton; for, after all, Charles was something, +an ever-open ear, an ever-ready approbation. +She confided many a thing to her greyhound. She +would have done so to the logs in the fireplace or to +the pendulum of the clock.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_078" id="Page_078">[78]</a></span> +At bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting +for something to happen. Like shipwrecked +sailors, she turned despairing eyes upon the solitude +of her life, seeking afar off some white sail in the +mists of the horizon. She did not know what this +chance would be, what wind would bring it her, toward +what shore it would drive her, if it would be a +shallop or a three-decker, laden with anguish or full +of bliss to the port-holes. But each morning, as she +awoke, she hoped it would come that day; she listened +to every sound, sprang up with a start, wondered +that it did not come; then at sunset, always +more saddened, she longed for the morrow.</p> + +<p>Spring came round. With the first warm weather, +when the pear-trees began to blossom, she suffered +from dyspnœa.</p> + +<p>From the beginning of July she counted how +many weeks there were to October, thinking that +perhaps the Marquis d'Andervilliers would give another +ball at Vaubyessard. But all September passed without +letters or visits.</p> + +<p>After the ennui of this disappointment her heart +once more remained empty, and then the same series +of days recommenced. So now they would thus follow +one another, always the same, immovable, and +bringing nothing. Other lives, however flat, had at +least the chance of some event. One adventure sometimes +brought with it infinite consequences, and the +scene changed. But nothing happened to her; God +had willed it so! The future was a dark corridor, +with its door at the end shut fast.</p> + +<p>She gave up music. What was the good of playing? +Who would hear her? Since she could never, +in a velvet gown with short sleeves, striking with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_079" id="Page_079">[79]</a></span> +her light fingers the ivory keys of an Erard at a concert, +feel the murmur of ecstasy envelop her like a +breeze, it was not worth while boring herself with +practising. Her drawing cardboard and her embroidery +she left in the cupboard. What was the good? +what was the good? Sewing irritated her. "I have +read everything," she said to herself. And she sat +there making the tongs red-hot, or looked at the rain +falling.</p> + +<p>How sad she was on Sundays when vespers +sounded! She listened with dull attention to each +stroke of the cracked bell. A cat slowly walking +over some roof put up his back in the pale rays of +the sun. The wind on the highroad blew up clouds +of dust. Afar off a dog sometimes howled; and the +bell, keeping time, continued its monotonous ringing +that died away over the fields.</p> + +<p>But the people came out from church. The women +in waxed clogs, the peasants in new blouses, the +little bareheaded children skipping along in front of +them, all were going home. And till nightfall, five +or six men, always the same, stayed playing at corks +in front of the large door of the inn.</p> + +<p>The winter was severe. The windows every +morning were covered with rime, and the light shining +through them, dim as through ground-glass, +sometimes did not change the whole day long. At +four o'clock the lamp had to be lighted.</p> + +<p>On fine days she went down into the garden. +The dew had left on the cabbages a silver lace with +long transparent threads spreading from one to the +other. No birds were to be heard; everything +seemed asleep, the espalier covered with straw, and +the vine, like a great sick serpent under the coping +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_080" id="Page_080">[80]</a></span> +of the wall, along which, on drawing near, one saw +the many-footed woodlice crawling. Under the +spruce by the hedgerow, the curé in the three-cornered +hat reading his breviary had lost his right +foot, and the very plaster, scaling off with the frost, +had left white scabs on his face.</p> + +<p>Then she went up again, shut her door, put on +coals, and fainting with the heat of the hearth, felt +her boredom weigh more heavily than ever. She +would have liked to go down and talk to the servant, +but a sense of shame restrained her.</p> + +<p>Every day at the same time the schoolmaster in a +black skull-cap opened the shutters of his house, and +the rural policeman, wearing his sabre over his +blouse, passed by. Night and morning the post-horses, +three by three, crossed the street to water at the +pond. From time to time the bell of a public-house +door rang, and when it was windy one could hear +the little brass basins that served as signs for the +hairdresser's shop creaking on their two rods. This +shop had as decoration an old engraving of a fashion-plate +stuck against a window-pane and the wax bust +of a woman with yellow hair. He, too, the hairdresser, +lamented his wasted calling, his hopeless +future, and dreaming of some shop in a big town—at +Rouen, for example, overlooking the harbor, near +the theater—he walked up and down all day from +the mairie to the church, sombre, and waiting for +customers. When Madame Bovary looked up, she +always saw him there, like a sentinel on duty, with +his skull-cap over his ears and his waistcoat of lasting.</p> + +<p>Sometimes in the afternoon, outside the window +of her room, the head of a man appeared, a swarthy +head with black whiskers, smiling slowly, with a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_081" id="Page_081">[81]</a></span> +broad, gentle smile that showed his white teeth. A +waltz immediately began, and on the organ, in a little +drawing-room, dancers the size of a finger, women +in pink turbans, Tyrolians in jackets, monkeys in +frock-coats, gentlemen in knee-breeches, turned and +turned between the sofas, the consoles, multiplied in +the bits of looking-glass held together at their corners +by a piece of gold paper. The man turned his handle, +looking to the right and left, and up at the windows. +Now and again, while he shot out a long +squirt of brown saliva against the milestone, with his +knee he raised his instrument, whose hard straps tired +his shoulder; and now, doleful and drawling, or gay +and hurried, the music escaped from the box, droning +through a curtain of pink taffeta under a brass +claw in arabesque. They were airs played in other +places at the theaters, sung in drawing-rooms, danced +to at night under lighted lustres, echoes of the world +that reached even to Emma. Endless sarabands ran +through her head, and, like an Indian dancing-girl on +the flowers of a carpet, her thoughts leaped with the +notes, swung from dream to dream, from sadness to +sadness. When the man had caught some coppers in +his cap, he drew down an old cover of blue cloth, +hitched his organ on to his back, and went off with +a heavy tread. She watched him going.</p> + +<p>But it was above all the meal-times that were unbearable +to her, in this small room on the ground-floor, +with its smoking stove, its creaking door, the +walls that sweated, the damp flags; all the bitterness +of life seemed served up on her plate, and with the +smoke of the boiled beef arose from her secret +soul whiffs of sickliness. Charles was a slow eater; +she played with a few nuts, or, leaning on her elbow, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_082" id="Page_082">[82]</a></span> +amused herself with drawing lines along the oil-cloth +table-cover with the point of her knife.</p> + +<p>She now let everything in her household take care +of itself, and Madame Bovary senior, when she came +to spend part of Lent at Tostes, was much surprised +at the change. She who was formerly so careful, so +dainty, now passed whole days without dressing, +wore gray cotton stockings, and burnt tallow candles. +She kept saying they must be economical since they +were not rich, adding that she was very contented, +very happy, that Tostes pleased her very much, with +other speeches that closed the mouth of her mother-in-law. +Besides, Emma no longer seemed inclined to +follow her advice; once even, Madame Bovary having +thought fit to maintain that mistresses ought to keep +an eye on the religion of their servants, she had answered +with so angry a look and so cold a smile +that the good woman did not mention it again.</p> + +<p>Emma was growing <i>difficile</i>, capricious. She ordered +dishes for herself, then she did not touch them; +one day drank only pure milk, and the next cups of +tea by the dozen. Often she persisted in not going +out, then, stifling, threw open the windows and put +on light frocks. After she had well scolded her servant, +she gave her presents or sent her out to see the +neighbors, just as she sometimes threw beggars all +the silver in her purse, although she was by no means +tender-hearted or easily accessible to the feelings of +others, like most country-bred people, who always +retain in their souls something of the horny hardness +of the paternal hands.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of February old Rouault, in memory +of his cure, himself brought his son-in-law a superb +turkey, and stayed three days at Tostes. Charles +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_083" id="Page_083">[83]</a></span> +being with his patients, Emma kept him company. +He smoked in the room, spat on the fire-dogs, talked +farming, calves, cows, poultry, and municipal council, +so that when he left she closed the door on him with +a feeling of satisfaction that surprised even herself. +Moreover, she no longer concealed her contempt for +anything or anybody, and at times she set herself to +express singular opinions, finding fault with that +which others approved, and approving things perverse +and immoral, all which made her husband open his +eyes widely.</p> + +<p>Would this misery last forever? Would she never +issue from it? Yet she was as good as all the women +who were living happily. She had seen duchesses at +Vaubyessard with clumsier waists and commoner +ways, and she execrated the injustice of God. She +leant her head against the walls to weep; she envied +lives of stir; longed for masked balls, for violent +pleasures, with all the wildness, that she did not +know, but that these must surely yield.</p> + +<p>She grew pale and suffered from palpitations of +the heart. Charles prescribed valerian and camphor +baths. Everything that was tried only seemed to irritate +her the more.</p> + +<p>On certain days she chattered with feverish rapidity, +and this over-excitement was suddenly followed +by a state of torpor, in which she remained without +speaking, without moving. What then revived +her was pouring a bottle of eau-de-cologne over her +arms.</p> + +<p>As she was constantly complaining about Tostes, +Charles fancied that her illness was no doubt due to +some local cause, and fixing on this idea, began to +think seriously of setting up elsewhere.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_084" id="Page_084">[84]</a></span> +From that moment she drank vinegar, contracted +a sharp little cough, and completely lost her appetite.</p> + +<p>It cost Charles much to give up Tostes after living +there four years and when he was "beginning +to get on there." Yet if it must be! He took her +to Rouen to see his old master. It was a nervous +complaint: change of air was needed.</p> + +<p>After looking about him on this side and on that, +Charles learnt that in the Neufchâtel arrondissement +there was a considerable market-town called Yonville +l'Abbaye, whose doctor, a Polish refugee, had decamped +a week before. Then he wrote to the +chemist of the place to ask the number of the population, +the distance from the nearest doctor, what his +predecessor had made a year, and so forth; and the +answer being satisfactory, he made up his mind to +move towards the spring, if Emma's health did not +improve.</p> + +<p>One day when, in view of her departure, she was +tidying a drawer, something pricked her finger. It was +a wire of her wedding-bouquet. The orange blossoms +were yellow with dust and the silver-bordered satin +ribbons frayed at the edges. She threw it into the +fire. It flared up more quickly than dry straw. +Then it was like a red bush in the cinders, slowly +devoured. She watched it burn. The little pasteboard +berries burst, the wire twisted, the gold lace +melted; and the shrivelled paper corollas, fluttering +like black butterflies at the back of the stove, at last +flew up the chimney.</p> + +<p>When they left Tostes in the month of March, +Madame Bovary was pregnant.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_085" id="Page_085">[85]</a></span></p> + +<h3>PART II.</h3> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<h4><a name="A_New_Field" id="A_New_Field"></a><span class="smcap">A New Field.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap114"><span class="dropcap">Y</span></span><br />ONVILLE-L'ABBAYE (so called from +an old Capuchin abbey of which not +even the ruins remain) is a market-town +twenty-four miles from +Rouen, between the Abbeville and +Beauvais roads, at the foot of a valley +watered by the Rieule, a little river that runs +into the Andelle after turning three water-mills near +its mouth, where there are a few trout that the lads +amuse themselves by fishing for on Sundays.</p> + +<p>We leave the highroad at La Boissière and keep +straight on to the top of the Leux hill, whence the +valley is seen. The river that runs through it makes +of it, as it were, two regions with distinct physiognomies,—all +on the left is pasture land, all on the +right arable. The meadow stretches under a bulge of +low hills to join at the back with the pasture land of +the Bray country, while on the eastern side, the plain, +gently rising, broadens out, showing as far as eye can +follow its blond cornfields. The water, flowing by +the grass, divides with a white line the color of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_086" id="Page_086">[86]</a></span> +roads and of the plains, and the country is like a +great unfolded mantle with a green velvet cape bordered +with a fringe of silver.</p> + +<p>Before us, on the verge of the horizon, lie the +oaks of the forest of Argueil, with the steeps of the +Saint-Jean hills scarred from top to bottom with red +irregular lines; they are rain-tracks, and these brick-tones +standing out in narrow streaks against the +gray color of the mountain are due to the quantity +of iron springs that flow beyond in the neighboring +country.</p> + +<p>Here we are on the confines of Normandy, Picardy, +and the Île-de-France, a bastard land, whose +language is without accent as its landscape is without +character. It is there that they make the worst +Neufchâtel cheeses of all the arrondissement; and, on +the other hand, farming is costly because so much +manure is needed to enrich this friable soil full of +sand and flints.</p> + +<p>Up to 1835 there was no practicable road for +getting to Yonville, but about this time a cross-road +was made which joins that of Abbeville to that of +Amiens, and is occasionally used by the Rouen wagoners +on their way to Flanders. Yonville-l'Abbaye +has remained stationary in spite of its "new outlet." +Instead of improving the soil, they persist in keeping +up the pasture lands, however depreciated they may +be in value, and the lazy borough, growing away +from the plain, has naturally spread riverwards. It is +seen from afar sprawling along the banks like a cowherd +taking a siesta by the <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: water-side">waterside</ins>.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the hill beyond the bridge begins +a roadway, planted with young aspens, that leads in +a straight line to the first houses in the place. These, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_087" id="Page_087">[87]</a></span> +fenced in by hedges, are in the middle of courtyards +full of straggling buildings, wine-presses, cart-sheds, +and distilleries scattered under thick trees, with ladders, +poles, or scythes hung on to the branches. The +thatched roofs, like fur caps drawn over eyes, reach +down over about a third of the low windows, whose +coarse convex glasses have knots in the middle like +the bottoms of bottles. Against the plaster wall, diagonally +crossed by black joists, a meagre pear-tree +sometimes leans, and the ground floors have at their +door a small swing-gate, to keep out the chicks that +come pilfering crumbs of bread steeped in cider on +the threshold. But the courtyards grow narrower, +the houses closer together, and the fences disappear; +a bundle of ferns swings under a window from the +end of a broomstick; there is a blacksmith's forge +and then a wheelwright's, with two or three new +carts outside that partly block up the way. Then +across an open space appears a white house beyond +a grass mound ornamented by a Cupid, his finger +on his lips; two brass vases are at each end of a +flight of steps; scutcheons<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> blaze upon the door. It +is the notary's house, and the finest in the place.</p> + +<p>The church is on the other side of the street, twenty +paces farther down, at the entrance of the square. +The little cemetery that surrounds it, closed in by a +wall breast-high, is so full of graves that the old stones, +level with the ground, form a continuous pavement, +on which the grass of itself has marked out regular +green squares. The church was rebuilt during the last +years of the reign of Charles X. The wooden roof is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_088" id="Page_088">[88]</a></span> +beginning to rot from the top, and here and there +has black hollows in its blue color. Over the door, +where the organ should be, is a loft for the men, +with a spiral staircase that reverberates under their +wooden shoes.</p> + +<p>The daylight coming through the plain glass windows +falls obliquely upon the pews ranged along +the walls, which are adorned here and there with a +straw mat bearing beneath it the words in large letters, +"Monsieur So-and-so's pew." And at the spot +where the building narrows, the confessional forms a +pendant to a statuette of the Virgin, clothed in a satin +robe, coifed with a tulle veil sprinkled with silver +stars, and with red cheeks, like an idol of the Sandwich +Islands; and, finally, a copy of the "Holy Family, +presented by the Minister of the Interior," overlooking +the high altar, between four candlesticks, closes +in the perspective. The choir stalls, of deal wood, +have been left unpainted.</p> + +<p>The market, that is to say, a tiled roof supported +by some twenty posts, occupies of itself about half the +public square of Yonville. The town hall, constructed +"from the designs of a Paris architect," is a sort of +Greek temple that forms the corner next to the chemist's +shop. On the ground floor are three Ionic columns, +and on the first floor a semicircular gallery, +while the dome that crowns it is occupied by a Gallic +cock, resting one foot upon the "Charte" and holding +in the other the scales of Justice.</p> + +<p>But that which most attracts the eye is, opposite +the Lion d'Or inn, the chemist's shop of Monsieur +Homais. In the evening especially its argand lamp +is lighted, and the red and green jars that embellish +his shop-front throw far across the street their two +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_089" id="Page_089">[89]</a></span> +streams of color; then across them, as if in Bengal +lights, is seen the shadow of the chemist leaning over +his desk. His house from top to bottom is placarded +with inscriptions written in large hand, round hand, +printed hand: "Vichy, Seltzer, Barège waters, blood +purifiers, Raspail patent medicine, Arabian racahout, +Darcet lozenges, Regnault paste, trusses, baths, hygienic +chocolate," &c. And the signboard, which takes +up all the breadth of the shop, bears in gold letters, +"Homais, Chemist." Then at the back of the shop, +behind the great scales fixed to the counter, the word +"Laboratory" appears on a scroll above a glass door, +which about half-way up once more repeats "Homais" +in gold letters on a black ground.</p> + +<p>Beyond this there is nothing to see at Yonville. +The street (the only one) a gunshot in length, and +flanked by a few shops on either side, stops short at +the turn of the highroad. If it is left on the right +hand and the foot of the Saint-Jean hills followed, the +cemetery is soon reached.</p> + +<p>At the time of the cholera, in order to enlarge +this, a piece of wall was pulled down, and three acres +of land by its side purchased; but all the new portion +is almost tenantless; the tombs, as heretofore, continue +to crowd together toward the gate. The keeper, +who is at once gravedigger and church beadle (thus +making a double profit out of the parish corpses), +has taken advantage of the unused plot of ground to +plant potatoes there. From year to year, however, +his small field grows smaller, and when there is an +epidemic, he does not know whether to rejoice at the +deaths or regret the burials.</p> + +<p>"You live on the dead, Lestiboudois!" the curé at +last said to him one day. This grim remark made +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_090" id="Page_090">[90]</a></span> +him reflect; it checked him for some time; but to +this day he carries on the cultivation of his little +tubers, and even maintains stoutly that they grow +naturally.</p> + +<p>Since the events about to be narrated, nothing in +fact has changed at Yonville. The tin tricolor flag +still swings at the top of the church-steeple; the two +chintz streamers still flutter in the wind from the linendraper's; +the chemist's fœtuses, like lumps of white +amadou, rot more and more in their turbid alcohol, +and above the big door of the inn the old golden +lion, faded by rain, still shows passers-by its poodle +mane.</p> + +<p>On the evening when the Bovarys were to arrive +at Yonville, Widow Lefrançois, the landlady of this +inn, was so very busy that she sweated great drops +as she moved her saucepans. To-morrow was market-day. +The meat had to be cut beforehand, the +fowls drawn, the soup and coffee made. Moreover, +she had the boarders' meals to see to, and that of +the doctor, his wife, and their servant; the billiard-room +was echoing with bursts of laughter; three +millers in the small parlor were calling for brandy; +the wood was blazing, the brazen pan was hissing, +and on the long kitchen table, amid the quarters of +raw mutton, rose piles of plates that rattled with the +shaking of the block on which the spinach was being +chopped. From the poultry-yard was heard the +screaming of the fowls which the servant was chasing +in order to wring their necks.</p> + +<p>A man slightly marked with small-pox, in green +leather slippers, and wearing a velvet cap with a gold +tassel, was warming his back at the chimney. His +face expressed nothing but self-satisfaction, and he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_091" id="Page_091">[91]</a></span> +appeared to take life as calmly as the goldfinch suspended +over his head in its wicker cage: this was the +chemist.</p> + +<p>"Artémise!" shouted the landlady, "chop some +wood, fill the water bottles, bring some brandy, look +sharp! If only I knew what dessert to offer the guests +you are expecting! Good heavens! Those furniture-movers +are beginning their racket in the billiard-room +again; and their van has been left before the front +door! The 'Hirondelle' might run into it when it +draws up. Call Polyte and tell him to put it up. +Only to think, Monsieur Homais, that since morning +they have had about fifteen games, and drunk eight +jars of cider! Why, they'll tear my cloth for me," +she went on, looking at them from a distance, her +strainer in her hand.</p> + +<p>"That wouldn't be much of a loss," replied Monsieur +Homais. "You would buy another."</p> + +<p>"Another billiard-table!" exclaimed the widow.</p> + +<p>"Since that one is coming to pieces, Madame Lefrançois. +I tell you again you are doing yourself +harm, much harm! And besides, players now want +narrow pockets and heavy cues. Hazards aren't played +now; everything is changed! One must keep pace +with the times! Just look at Tellier!"</p> + +<p>The hostess reddened with vexation. The chemist +went on:</p> + +<p>"You may say what you like; his table is better +than yours; and if one were to think, for example, of +getting up a patriotic pool for Poland or the sufferers +from the Lyons floods"—</p> + +<p>"It isn't beggars like him that'll frighten us," interrupted +the landlady, shrugging her fat shoulders. +"Come, come, Monsieur Homais; as long as the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_092" id="Page_092">[92]</a></span> +'Lion d'Or' exists people will come to it. We've +feathered our nest; while one of these days you'll +find the 'Café Français' closed with a big placard +on the shutters. Change my billiard-table!" she +went on, speaking to herself, "the table that comes +in so handy for folding the washing, and on which, +in the hunting season, I have slept six visitors! But +that dawdler, Hivert, doesn't come!"</p> + +<p>"Are you waiting for him for your gentlemen's +dinner?"</p> + +<p>"Wait for him! And what about Monsieur Binet? +As the clock strikes six you'll see him come in, +for he hasn't his equal under the sun for punctuality. +He must always have his seat in the small parlor. +He'd rather die than dine anywhere else. And so +squeamish as he is, and so particular about the cider! +Not like Monsieur Léon; he sometimes comes at +seven, or even half-past, and he doesn't so much as +look at what he eats. Such a nice young man! +Never speaks a rough word!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, there's a great difference between +an educated man and an old carabineer who is now +a tax-collector."</p> + +<p>Six o'clock struck. Binet came in.</p> + +<p>He wore a blue frock-coat falling in a straight +line round his thin body, and his leather cap, with +its lappets knotted over the top of his head with +string, showed under the turned-up peak a bald forehead, +flattened by the constant wearing of a helmet. +He wore a black cloth waistcoat, a hair collar, gray +trousers, and, all the year round, well-blacked boots, +that had two parallel swellings due to the sticking +out of his big toes. Not a hair stood out from the +regular line of fair whiskers, which encircling his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_093" id="Page_093">[93]</a></span> +jaws, framed, after the fashion of a garden border, +his long, wan face, whose eyes were small and the +nose hooked. Clever at all games of cards, a good +hunter, and writing a fine hand, he had at home a +lathe, and amused himself by turning napkin-rings, +with which he filled up his house, with the jealousy +of an artist and the egotism of a bourgeois.</p> + +<p>He went to the small parlor, but the three millers +had to be got out first, and during the whole time +necessary for laying the cloth, Binet remained silent +in his place near the stove. Then he shut the door +and took off his cap in his usual way.</p> + +<p>"It isn't with saying civil things that he'll wear +out his tongue," said the chemist, as soon as he was +alone with the landlady.</p> + +<p>"He never talks more," she replied. "Last week +two travelers in the cloth line were here—such +clever chaps, who told such jokes in the evening, +that I fairly cried with laughing; and he stood there +like a dab fish and never said a word."</p> + +<p>"Yes," observed the chemist; "no imagination, +no sallies, nothing that makes the society man."</p> + +<p>"Yet they say he has parts," objected the landlady.</p> + +<p>"Parts!" replied Monsieur Homais; "he parts! In +his own line it is possible," he added in a calmer +tone. And he went on—</p> + +<p>"Ah! that a merchant, who has large connections, +a juris-consult, a doctor, a chemist, should be thus +absent-minded, that they should become whimsical or +even peevish, I can understand; such cases are cited +in history. But at least it is because they are thinking +of something. Myself, for example, how often +has it happened to me to look on the bureau for my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_094" id="Page_094">[94]</a></span> +pen to write a label, and to find, after all, that I had +put it behind my ear?"</p> + +<p>Madame Lefrançois just then went to the door to +see if the "Hirondelle" were not coming. She +started. A man dressed in black suddenly came into +the kitchen. By the last gleam of the twilight one +could see that his face was rubicund and his form +athletic.</p> + +<p>"What can I do for you, Monsieur le Curé?" +asked the landlady, as she reached down from the +chimney one of the copper candlesticks placed with +their candles in a row. "Will you take something? +A thimbleful of <i>cassis</i>? A glass of wine?"</p> + +<p>The priest declined very politely. He had come +for his umbrella, that he had forgotten the other day +at the Ernemont convent, and after asking Madame +Lefrançois to have it sent to him at the presbytery +in the evening, he left for the church, from which +the Angelus was ringing.</p> + +<p>When the chemist no longer heard the noise of +his boots along the square, he thought the priest's +behavior just now very unbecoming. This refusal to +take any refreshment seemed to him the most odious +hypocrisy; all priests tippled on the sly, and were +trying to bring back the days of the tithe.</p> + +<p>The landlady took up the defense of her curé.</p> + +<p>"Besides, he could double up four men like you +over his knee. Last year he helped our people to +bring in the straw; he carried as many as six trusses +at once, he is so strong."</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" said the chemist. "Now just send +your daughters to confess to fellows with such a +temperament! I, if I were the Government, I'd have +the priests bled once a month. Yes, Madame <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads Lafrançois">Lefrançois</ins>, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_095" id="Page_095">[95]</a></span> +every month—a good phlebotomy, in the interests +of the police and morals."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Monsieur Homais. You are an infidel; +you've no religion."</p> + +<p>The chemist answered: "I have a religion, my +religion, and I even have more than all these others +with their mummeries and their juggling. I adore +God, on the contrary. I believe in the Supreme Being, +in a Creator, whatever he may be. I care little +who has placed us here below to fulfil our duties as +citizens and fathers of families; but I don't need to +go to church to kiss silver plates, and fatten, out +of my pocket, a lot of good-for-nothings who live +better than we do. For one can know him as well +in a wood, in a field, or even contemplating the +eternal vault like the ancients. My God! mine is the +God of Socrates, of Franklin, of Voltaire, and Béranger! +I am for the profession of faith of the +'Savoyard Vicar,' and the immortal principles of '89! +And I can't admit of an old boy of a God who +takes walks in his garden with a cane in his hand, +who lodges his friends in the belly of whales, dies +uttering a cry, and rises again at the end of three +days; things absurd in themselves, and completely +opposed, moreover, to all physical laws, which proves +to us, by the way, that priests have always wallowed +in torpid ignorance, in which they would fain engulf +the people with them."</p> + +<p>He ceased looking round for an audience, for in +his bubbling over the chemist had for a moment +fancied himself in the midst of the town council. +But the landlady no longer heeded him; she was listening +to a distant rolling. One could distinguish +the noise of a carriage mingled with the clattering of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_096" id="Page_096">[96]</a></span> +loose horseshoes that beat against the ground, and at +last the "Hirondelle" stopped at the door.</p> + +<p>It was a yellow box on two large wheels, that, +reaching to the tilt, prevented travelers from seeing +the road and soiled their shoulders. The small +panes of the narrow windows rattled in their sashes +when the coach was closed, and retained here and +there patches of mud amid the old layers of dust, +that not even storms of rain had altogether washed +away. It was drawn by three horses, the first a +leader, and when it came down-hill its bottom jolted +against the ground.</p> + +<p>Some of the inhabitants of Yonville came out into +the square; they all spoke at once, asking for news, +for explanations, for hampers. Hivert did not know +whom to answer. It was he who did the errands of +the place in town. He went to the shops and brought +back rolls of leather for the shoemaker, old iron for +the farrier, a barrel of herrings for his mistress, caps +from the milliner's, locks from the hairdresser's, and +all along the road on his return journey he distributed +his parcels, which he threw, standing upright on his +seat and shouting at the top of his voice, over the +enclosures of the yards.</p> + +<p>An accident had delayed him. Madame Bovary's +greyhound had run across the field. They had whistled +for him a quarter of an hour; Hivert had even +gone back a mile and a half expecting every moment +to catch sight of her; but it had been necessary to +go on. Emma had wept, grown angry; she had accused +Charles of this misfortune. Monsieur Lheureux, +a draper, who happened to be in the coach with her +had tried to console her by a number of examples of +lost dogs recognizing their masters at the end of long +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_097" id="Page_097">[97]</a></span> +years. One, he said, had been told of who had come +back to Paris from Constantinople. Another had gone +one hundred and fifty miles in a straight line, and +swam four rivers; and his own father had possessed +a poodle, which, after twelve years of absence, had +all of a sudden jumped on his back in the street as +he was going to dine in town.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a>The <i>panonceaux</i> that have to be hung over the doors of +notaries.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 121px;"> +<img src="images/i126.jpg" width="121" height="75" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_098" id="Page_098">[98]</a></span></p> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<h4><a name="New_Friends" id="New_Friends"></a><span class="smcap">New Friends.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap127"><span class="dropcap">E</span></span><br />MMA got out first, then Félicité, +Monsieur Lheureux, and a nurse, +and they had to wake up Charles +in his corner, where he had slept +soundly since night set in.</p> + +<p>Homais introduced himself; he +offered his homages to Madame and his respects to +Monsieur; said he was charmed to have been able +to render them some slight service, and added with +a cordial air that he had ventured to invite himself, +his wife being away.</p> + +<p>When Madame Bovary was in the kitchen she +went up to the chimney. With the tips of her fingers +she caught her dress at the knee, and having thus +pulled it up to her ankle, held out her foot in its +black boot to the fire above the revolving leg of mutton. +The flame lit up the whole of her, penetrating +with a crude light the woof of her gown, the fine +pores of her fair skin, and even her eyelids, which +she blinked now and again. A great red glow passed +over her with the blowing of the wind through the +half-open door. On the other side of the chimney +a young man with fair hair watched her silently.</p> + +<p>As he was a good deal bored at Yonville, where +he was a clerk at the notary's, Monsieur Guillaumin +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_099" id="Page_099">[99]</a></span> +Monsieur Léon Dupuis (it was he who was the +second <i>habitué</i> of the "Lion d'Or") frequently put +back his dinner-hour in the hope that some traveler +might come to the inn, with whom he could chat in +the evening. On the days when his work was done +early, he had, for want of something else to do, to +come punctually, and endure from soup to cheese a +<i>tête-à-tête</i> with Binet. It was therefore with delight +that he accepted the landlady's suggestion that he +should dine in company with the newcomers, and +they passed into the large parlor where Madame Lefrançois, +for the purpose of showing off, had had +the table laid for four.</p> + +<p>Homais asked to be allowed to keep on his skull-cap, +for fear of coryza; then turning to his neighbor—</p> + +<p>"Madame is no doubt a little fatigued; one gets +jolted so abominably in our 'Hirondelle.'"</p> + +<p>"That is true," replied Emma; "but moving about +always amuses me. I like change of place."</p> + +<p>"It is so tedious," sighed the clerk, "to be always +riveted to the same places."</p> + +<p>"If you were like me," said Charles, "constantly +obliged to be in the saddle"—</p> + +<p>"But," Léon went on, addressing himself to Madame +Bovary, "nothing, it seems to me, is more +pleasant—when one can," he added.</p> + +<p>"Moreover," said the chemist, "the practice of +medicine is not very hard work in our part of the +world, for the state of our roads allows us the use +of gigs, and generally, as the farmers are well off, +they pay pretty well. We have, medically speaking, +besides the ordinary cases of enteritis, bronchitis, +bilious affections, etc., now and then a few intermittent +fevers at harvest-time; but on the whole, little of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +a serious nature, nothing special to note, unless it be +a great deal of scrofula, due, no doubt, to the deplorable +hygienic conditions of our peasant dwellings. +Ah! you will find many prejudices to combat, Monsieur +Bovary, much obstinacy of routine, with which +all the efforts of your science will daily come into +collision; for people still have recourse to novenas, to +relics, to the priest, rather than come straight to the +doctor or the chemist. The climate, however, is not, +truth to tell, bad, and we even have a few nonagenarians +in our parish. The thermometer (I have +made some observations) falls in winter to 4 degrees +and in the hottest season rises to 25 or 30 degrees +Centigrade at the outside, which gives us 24 degrees +Réaumur as the maximum, or otherwise 54 degrees +Fahrenheit (English scale), not more. And, as a +matter of fact, we are sheltered from the north winds +by the forest of Argueil on the one side, from the +west winds by the St. Jean range on the other; and +this heat, moreover, which, on account of the aqueous +vapors given off by the river and the considerable +number of cattle in the fields, which, as you know, +exhale much ammonia, that is to say, nitrogen, hydrogen, +and oxygen (no, nitrogen and hydrogen +alone), and which sucking up into itself the humus +from the ground, mixing together all those different +emanations, unites them into a stack, so to say, and +combining with the electricity diffused through the +atmosphere, when there is any, might in the long +run, as in tropical countries, engender insalubrious +miasmata,—this heat, I say, finds itself perfectly tempered +on the side whence it comes, or rather whence +it should come—that is to say, the southern side—by +the south-eastern winds, which, having cooled +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +themselves passing over the Seine, reach us sometimes +all at once, like breezes from Russia."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, you have some walks in the neighborhood?" +continued Madame Bovary, speaking to the +young man.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very few," he answered. "There is a place +they call La Pâture, on the top of the hill, on the +edge of the forest. Sometimes, on Sundays, I go +and stay there with a book, watching the sunset."</p> + +<p>"I think there is nothing so admirable as sunsets," +she resumed; "but especially by the side of the sea."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I adore the sea!" said Monsieur Léon.</p> + +<p>"And then, does it not seem to you," continued +Madame Bovary, "that the mind travels more freely +on this limitless expanse, the contemplation of which +elevates the soul, gives ideas of the infinite, the +ideal?"</p> + +<p>"It is the same with mountainous landscapes," +continued Léon. "A cousin of mine who traveled in +Switzerland last year told me that one could not picture +to oneself the poetry of the lakes, the charm of +the waterfalls, the gigantic effect of the glaciers. One +sees pines of incredible size across torrents, cottages +suspended over precipices, and, a thousand feet below +one, whole valleys when the clouds open. Such +spectacles must stir to enthusiasm, incline to prayer, +to ecstasy; and I no longer marvel at that celebrated +musician who, the better to inspire his imagination, +was in the habit of playing the piano before some +imposing site."</p> + +<p>"You play?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No, but I am very fond of music," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Ah! don't you listen to him, Madame Bovary," +interrupted Homais, bending over his plate. "That's +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +sheer modesty. Why, my dear fellow, the other day +in your room you were singing 'L'Ange Gardien' +ravishingly. I heard you from the laboratory. You +gave it like an actor."</p> + +<p>Léon, in fact, lodged at the chemist's, where he +had a small room on the second floor, overlooking the +Place. He blushed at the compliment of his landlord, +who had already turned to the doctor, and was enumerating +to him, one after the other, all the principal +inhabitants of Yonville. He was telling anecdotes, +giving information; the fortune of the notary was not +known exactly, and "there was the Tuvache household," +who made a good deal of show.</p> + +<p>Emma continued, "And what music do you prefer?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, German music; that which makes you +dream."</p> + +<p>"Have you been to the opera?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet; but I shall go next year, when I am +living at Paris to finish reading for the bar."</p> + +<p>"As I had the honor of putting it to your husband," +said the chemist, "with regard to this poor +Yanoda who has run away, you will find yourself, +thanks to his extravagance, in the possession of one +of the most comfortable houses of Yonville. Its +greatest convenience for a doctor is a door giving on +the Walk, where one can go in and out unseen. +Moreover, it contains everything that is agreeable in +a household—a laundry, kitchen with offices, sitting-room, +fruit-room, etc. He was a gay dog, who didn't +care what he spent. At the end of the garden, by +the side of the water, he had an arbor built just for +the purpose of drinking beer in summer; and if madame +is fond of gardening she will be able"—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +"My wife doesn't care about it," said Charles; +"although she has been advised to take exercise, she +prefers always sitting in her room reading."</p> + +<p>"Like me," replied Léon. "And indeed, what is +better than to sit by one's fireside in the evening with +a book, while the wind beats against the window +and the lamp is burning?"</p> + +<p>"What, indeed?" she said, fixing her large black +eyes wide open upon him.</p> + +<p>"One thinks of nothing," he continued; "the hours +slip by. Motionless we traverse countries we fancy +we see, and your thought, blending with the fiction, +playing with the details, follows the outline of the adventures. +It mingles with the characters, and it seems +as if it were yourself palpitating beneath their costumes."</p> + +<p>"That is true! that is true!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Has it ever happened to you," Léon went on, +"to come across some vague idea of one's own in a +book, some dim image that comes back to you from +afar, and as the completest expression of your own +slightest sentiment?"</p> + +<p>"I have experienced it," she replied.</p> + +<p>"That is the reason why," he said, "I especially +love the poets. I think verse more tender than prose, +and that it moves far more easily to tears."</p> + +<p>"Still in the long run it is tiring," continued +Emma. "Now I, on the contrary, adore stories that +rush breathlessly along, that frighten one. I detest +commonplace heroes and moderate sentiments, such +as there are in nature."</p> + +<p>"In fact," observed the clerk, "these works, not +touching the heart, it seems to me, the true end +of art. It is so sweet, amid all the disenchantments +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +of life, to be able to dwell in thought upon +noble characters, pure affections, and pictures of happiness. +For myself, living here far from the world, +this is my one distraction; but Yonville affords so +few resources."</p> + +<p>"Like Tostes, no doubt," replied Emma; "and so +I always subscribed to a lending library."</p> + +<p>"If madame will do me the honor of making use +of it," said the chemist, who had just caught the last +words, "I have at her disposal a library composed of +the best authors, Voltaire, Rousseau, Delille, Walter +Scott, the 'Echo des Feuilletons;' and in addition I +receive various periodicals, among them the 'Fanal +de Rouen' daily, having the advantage to be its correspondent +for the districts of Buchy, Forges, Neufchâtel, +Yonville and vicinity."</p> + +<p>For two hours and a half they had been at table; +for the servant Artémise, carelessly dragging her old +list slippers over the flags, brought one plate after +the other, forgot everything, and constantly left the +door of the billiard-room half open, so that it beat +against the wall with its hooks.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously, Léon, while talking, had placed +his foot on one of the bars of the chair on which +Madame Bovary was sitting. She wore a small blue +silk necktie, that kept up like a ruff a gauffered cambric +collar, and with the movements of her head the +lower part of her face gently sunk into the linen or +came out from it. Thus, side by side, while Charles +and the chemist chatted, they entered into one of +those vague conversations where the hazard of all that +is said brings you back to the fixed center of a common +sympathy. The Paris theaters, titles of novels, +new quadrilles, and the world they did not know; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +Tostes, where she had lived, and Yonville, where +they were; they examined all, talked of everything till +to the end of dinner.</p> + +<p>When coffee was served Félicité went away to +get ready the room in the new house, and the guests +soon raised the siege. Madame Lefrançois was asleep +near the cinders, while the stable-boy, lantern in +hand, was waiting to show Monsieur and Madame +Bovary the way home. Bits of straw stuck in his +red hair, and he limped with his left leg. When he +had taken in his other hand the curé's umbrella, they +started.</p> + +<p>The town was asleep; the pillars of the market +threw great shadows; the earth was all gray as on a +summer's night. But as the doctor's house was only +some fifty paces from the inn, they had to say good-night +almost immediately, and the company dispersed.</p> + +<p>As soon as she entered the passage, Emma felt +the cold of the plaster fall about her shoulders like +damp linen. The walls were new and the wooden +stairs creaked. In their bedroom, on the first floor, a +whitish light passed through the curtainless windows. +She could catch glimpses of tree-tops, and +beyond, the fields, half-drowned in the fog that lay +reeking in the moonlight along the course of the +river. In the middle of the room, pell-mell, were +scattered drawers, bottles, curtain-rods, gilt poles, +with mattresses on the chairs and basins on the +floor,—the two men who had brought the furniture +had left everything about carelessly.</p> + +<p>This was the fourth time that she had slept in a +strange place. The first was the day of her going to +the convent; the second, of her arrival at Tostes; the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +third, at Vaubyessard; and this was the fourth. And +each one had marked, as it were, the inauguration of +a new phase in her life. She did not believe that +things could present themselves in the same way in +different places, and since the portion of her life +lived had been bad, no doubt that which remained to +be lived would be better.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 94px;"> +<img src="images/i135.jpg" width="94" height="65" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Added_Cares" id="Added_Cares"></a><span class="smcap">Added Cares.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap136"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span><br />HE next day, as she was getting up, +she saw the clerk on the Place. +She had on a dressing-gown. He +looked up and bowed. She nodded +quickly and reclosed the window.</p> + +<p>Léon waited all day for six o'clock in the evening +to come, but on going to the inn, he found no one +but Monsieur Binet, already at table. The dinner of +the evening before had been a considerable event for +him; he had never till then talked for two hours consecutively +to a "lady." How then had he been able +to explain, and in such language, the number of +things that he could not have said so well before? +He was usually shy, and maintained that reserve +which partakes at once of modesty and dissimulation. +At Yonville he was considered "well-bred." He +listened to the arguments of the older people, and did +not seem hot about politics—a remarkable thing for +a young man. Then he had some accomplishments; +he painted in water-colors, could read the key of <i>G</i>, +and readily talked literature after dinner when he did +not play cards. Monsieur Homais respected him for +his education; Madame Homais liked him for his +good-nature, for he often took the little Homaises into +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +the garden—little brats who were always dirty, very +much spoiled, and somewhat lymphatic, like their +mother. Besides the servant to look after them, they +had Justin, the chemist's apprentice, a second cousin +of Monsieur Homais, who had been taken into the +house from charity, and who was useful at the same +time as a servant.</p> + +<p>The chemist proved the best of neighbors. He +gave Madame Bovary information as to the tradespeople, +sent expressly for his own cider merchant, tasted +the drink himself, and saw that the casks were properly +placed in the cellar; he explained how to set about +getting in a supply of butter cheap, and made an arrangement +with Lestiboudois, the sacristan, who, +besides his sacerdotal and funereal functions, looked +after the principal gardens at Yonville by the hour or +the year, according to the taste of the customers.</p> + +<p>The need of looking after others was not the only +thing that urged the chemist to such obsequious cordiality; +there was a plan underneath it all.</p> + +<p>He had infringed the law of the 19th Ventôse, year +xi, article 1, which forbade all persons not having a +diploma to practice medicine; so that, after certain +anonymous denunciations, Homais had been summoned +to Rouen to see the procureur of the king in his own +private room; the magistrate receiving him standing +up, ermine on shoulder and cap on head. It was in +the morning, before the court opened. In the corridors +one heard the heavy boots of the gendarmes walking +past, and like a far-off noise great locks that were +shut. The chemist's ears tingled as if he were about +to have an apoplectic stroke: he saw the depths of +dungeons, his family in tears, his shop sold, all the +jars dispersed; and he was obliged to enter a café +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +and take a glass of rum and seltzer to recover his +spirits.</p> + +<p>Little by little the memory of this reprimand grew +fainter, and he continued, as heretofore, to give anodyne +consultations in his back-parlor. But the mayor +resented it, his colleagues were jealous, everything was +to be feared; gaining over Monsieur Bovary by his attentions +was to earn his gratitude, and prevent his +speaking out later, should he notice anything. So +every morning Homais brought him "the paper," and +often in the afternoon left his shop for a few moments +to have a chat with the Doctor.</p> + +<p>Charles was dull: patients did not come. He remained +seated for hours without speaking, went into +his consulting-room to sleep, or watched his wife +sewing. Then for diversion he employed himself at +home as a workman; he even tried to do up the attic +with some paint which had been left behind by the +painters. But money matters worried him. He had +spent so much for repairs at Tostes, for madame's +toilette, and for the moving, that the whole dowry, +over three thousand crowns, had slipped away in two +years. Then how many things had been spoilt or lost +during their carriage from Tostes to Yonville, without +counting the plaster curé, who, falling out of the coach +at an over-severe jolt, had been dashed into a thousand +fragments on the pavement of Quincampoix!</p> + +<p>A pleasanter trouble came to distract him, namely, +the pregnancy of his wife. As the time of her confinement +approached he cherished her the more. It was +another bond of the flesh establishing itself, and, as it +were, a continued sentiment of a more complex union. +When from afar he saw her languid walk, and her +figure without stays turning softly on her hips; when +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +opposite one another he looked at her at his ease, +while she took tired poses in her armchair, then his +happiness knew no bounds; he got up, embraced her, +passed his hands over her face, called her little mamma, +wanted to make her dance, and, half-laughing, half-crying, +uttered all kinds of caressing pleasantries that +came into his head. The idea of having begotten a +child delighted him. Now he wanted nothing. He +knew human life from end to end, and he sat down +to it with serenity.</p> + +<p>Emma at first felt a great astonishment; then was +anxious to be delivered that she might know what +it was to be a mother. But not being able to spend +as much as she would have liked, to have a swing-bassinette +with rose silk curtains, and embroidered +caps, in a fit of bitterness she gave up looking after +the trousseau, and ordered the whole of it from a +village needlewoman, without choosing or discussing +anything. Thus she did not amuse herself with those +preparations that stimulate the tenderness of mothers, +and so her affection was from the very outset, perhaps, +to some extent attenuated.</p> + +<p>As Charles, however, spoke of the boy at every +meal, she soon began to think of him more consecutively.</p> + +<p>She hoped for a son; he would be strong and +dark; she would call him George; and this idea of +having a male child was like an expected revenge for +all her impotence in the past. A man, at least, is +free; he may travel over passions and over countries, +overcome obstacles, taste of the most far-away pleasures. +But a woman is always hampered. At once +inert and flexible, she has against her the weakness +of the flesh and legal dependence. Her will, like the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +veil of her bonnet, held by a string, flutters in every +wind; there is always some desire that draws her, +some conventionality that restrains.</p> + +<p>She was confined on a Sunday at about six o'clock, +as the sun was rising.</p> + +<p>"It is a girl!" said Charles.</p> + +<p>She turned her head away and fainted.</p> + +<p>Madame Homais, as well as Madame Lefrançois of +the Lion d'Or, almost immediately came running in +to embrace her. The chemist, as a man of discretion, +offered only a few provisional felicitations through the +half-open door. He wished to see the child, and +thought it well made.</p> + +<p>While she was getting well she occupied herself +much in seeking a name for her daughter. First she +went over all those that have Italian endings, such as +Clara, Louisa, Amanda, Atala; she liked Galsuinde +very well, and Yseult or Léocadie still better. Charles +wanted the child to be called after her mother; Emma +opposed this. They ran over the calendar from end +to end, and then consulted outsiders.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Léon," said the chemist, "with whom I +was talking about it the other day, wonders you do +not choose Madeleine. It is very much in fashion just +now."</p> + +<p>But Madame Bovary, senior, cried out loudly +against this name of a sinner. As to Monsieur Homais, +he had a preference for all those that recalled +some great man, an illustrious fact, or a generous +idea, and it was on this system that he baptized his +four children. Thus <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads "Napoleon" without an accent">Napoléon</ins> represented glory and +Franklin liberty; Irma was perhaps a concession to +romanticism, but Athalie was a homage to the greatest +masterpiece of the French stage. For his philosophical +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +convictions did not interfere with his artistic +tastes; in him the thinker did not stifle the man of +sentiment; he could make distinctions, make allowances +for imagination and fanaticism. In this tragedy, +for example, he found fault with the ideas, but +admired the style; he detested the conception, but +applauded all the details, and loathed the characters +while he grew enthusiastic over their dialogue. When +he read the fine passages he was transported, but +when he thought that mummers would get something +out of them for their show, he was disconsolate; and +in this confusion of sentiments in which he was involved +he would have liked at once to crown Racine +with both his hands and argue with him for a good +quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p>At last Emma remembered that at the château of +Vaubyessard she had heard the Marchioness call a +young lady Berthe; from that moment this name was +chosen; and as old Rouault could not come, Monsieur +Homais was requested to stand godfather. His +gifts were all products from his establishment, to wit: +six boxes of jujubes, a whole jar of racahout, three +cakes of marsh-mallow paste, and six sticks of sugar-candy, +into the bargain, that he had come across in a +cupboard. On the evening of the ceremony there +was a grand dinner; the curé was present; there was +much excitement. Monsieur Homais toward liqueur-time +began singing "Le Dieu des bonnes gens." +Monsieur Léon sang a barcarolle, and Madame Bovary, +senior, who was godmother, a romance of the +time of the Empire; finally, M. Bovary, senior, insisted +on having the child brought down, and began +baptizing it with a glass of champagne that he poured +over its head. This mockery of the first of the sacraments +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +made the Abbé Bournisien angry; old Bovary +replied by a quotation from "La Guerre des Dieux;" +the curé wished to leave; the ladies implored, Homais +interfered; and they succeeded in making the priest +sit down again, and he quietly went on with the +half-finished coffee in his saucer.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Bovary, senior, stayed at Yonville a +month, dazzling the natives by a superb policeman's +cap with silver tassels that he wore in the morning +when he smoked his pipe in the square. Being also +in the habit of drinking a good deal of brandy, he +often sent the servant to the Lion d'Or to buy him a +bottle, which was put down to his son's account, and +to perfume his handkerchiefs he used up his daughter-in-law's +whole supply of eau-de-cologne.</p> + +<p>The latter did not at all dislike his company. He +had knocked about the world, he talked about Berlin, +Vienna, and Strasbourg, of his soldier times, of the +mistresses he had had, the grand luncheons of which +he had partaken; then he was amiable, and sometimes +even, either on the stairs or in the garden, +would seize hold of her waist, crying, "Charles, look +out for yourself."</p> + +<p>Then Madame Bovary, senior, became alarmed for +her son's happiness, and fearing that her husband +might in the long run have an immoral influence +upon the ideas of the young woman, took care to +hurry their departure. Perhaps she had more serious +reasons for uneasiness. Monsieur Bovary was not the +man to respect anything.</p> + +<p>One day Emma was suddenly seized with the desire +to see her little girl, who had been put to nurse +with the carpenter's wife, and without looking at the +almanac to see whether the six weeks of the Virgin +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +were yet passed, she set out for the Rollets' house, +situated at the extreme end of the village, between +the highroad and the fields.</p> + +<p>It was mid-day, the shutters of the houses were +closed, and the slate roofs that glittered beneath the +fierce light of the blue sky seemed to strike sparks +from the crest of their gables. A heavy wind was +blowing; Emma felt weak as she walked; the stones +of the pavement hurt her; she was doubtful whether +she would not go home again, or go in somewhere +to rest.</p> + +<p>At this moment Monsieur Léon came out from a +neighboring door with a bundle of papers under his +arm. He came to greet her, and stood in the shade +in front of Lheureux's shop under the projecting gray +awning.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary said she was going to see her +baby, but that she was beginning to grow tired.</p> + +<p>"If—" said Léon, not daring to go on.</p> + +<p>"Have you any business to attend to?" she asked.</p> + +<p>And on the clerk's answer, she begged him to accompany +her. That same evening this was known +in Yonville, and Madame Tuvache, the mayor's wife, +declared in the presence of her servant that "Madame +Bovary was compromising herself."</p> + +<p>To get to the nurse's it was necessary to turn to +the left on leaving the street, as if making for the +cemetery, and to follow between little houses and +yards a small path bordered with privet hedges. They +were in bloom, and so were the speedwells, eglantines, +thistles, and the sweetbriar that sprang up from +the thickets. Through openings in the hedges one +could see into the huts, some pig on a dung-heap, or +tethered cows rubbing their horns against the trunk +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +of trees. The two, side by side, walked slowly, she +leaning upon him, and he restraining his pace, which +he regulated by hers; in front of them a swarm of +midges fluttered, buzzing in the warm air.</p> + +<p>They recognized the house by an old walnut-tree +which shaded it. Low, and covered with brown +tiles, outside it hung, beneath the dormer-window of +the garret, a string of onions. Faggots upright against +a thorn fence surrounded a bed of lettuces, a few +square feet of lavender, and sweet peas strung on +sticks. Dirty water was running here and there on +the grass, and several indefinite rags, knitted stockings, +a red calico jacket, and a large sheet of +coarse linen, were spread over the hedge. At the +noise of the gate the nurse appeared with a baby she +was suckling on one arm. With her other hand she +was pulling along a poor puny little fellow, his face +covered with scrofula, the son of a Rouen hosier, +whom his parents, too taken up with their business, +left in the country.</p> + +<p>"Go in," she said; "your little one is there +asleep."</p> + +<p>The room on the ground floor, the only one in +the dwelling, had at its farther end, against the wall, +a large bed without curtains, while a kneading-trough +took up the side by the window, one pane of which +was mended with a piece of blue paper. In the +corner behind the door, shining hobnailed shoes stood +in a row under the slab of the washstand, near a +bottle of oil with a feather stuck in its mouth; a +<i>Matthieu Laensberg</i> lay on the dusty mantelpiece amid +gun-flints, candle-ends, and bits of amadou. Finally, +the last luxury in the apartment was a "Fame" +blowing her trumpets, a picture cut out, no doubt, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +from some perfumer's prospectus and nailed to the +wall with six wooden shoe-pegs.</p> + +<p>Emma's child was asleep in a wicker-cradle. She +took it up in the wrapping that enveloped it and +began singing softly as she rocked herself to and fro.</p> + +<p>Léon walked up and down the room; it seemed +strange to him to see this beautiful woman in her +nankeen dress in the midst of all this poverty. Madame +Bovary reddened, he turned away, thinking +perhaps there had been an impertinent look in his +eyes. Then she put back the baby girl, who had just +vomited over her frock. The nurse at once came +to dry her, protesting that it wouldn't show.</p> + +<p>"She gives me other doses," she said; "I am always +a-washing of her. If you would have the goodness +to order Camus, the grocer, to let me have a +little soap; it would really be more convenient for +you, as I needn't trouble you then."</p> + +<p>"Very well! very well!" said Emma. "Good +morning, Madame Rollet," and she went out, wiping +her shoes at the door.</p> + +<p>The good woman accompanied her to the end of +the garden, talking all the time of the trouble she had +getting up of nights.</p> + +<p>"I'm that worn out sometimes as I drop asleep +on my chair. I'm sure you might at least give me +just a pound of ground coffee; that'd last me a +month, and I'd take it of a morning with some +milk."</p> + +<p>After submitting to her thanks, Madame Bovary +left. She had gone a little way down the path +when, at the sound of wooden shoes, she turned +round. It was the nurse.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +Then the peasant woman, taking her aside behind +an elm tree, began talking to her of her husband, +who with his trade and six francs a year that the +captain—</p> + +<p>"Oh, be quick!" said Emma.</p> + +<p>"Well," the nurse went on, heaving sighs between +each word, "I'm afraid he'll be put out seeing me +have coffee alone; you know men—"</p> + +<p>"But you are to have some," Emma repeated; "I +will give you some. You bother me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! my poor, dear lady! you see, in consequence +of his wounds he has terrible cramps in the +chest. He even says that cider weakens him."</p> + +<p>"Do make haste, Mère Rollet!"</p> + +<p>"Well," the latter continued, making a curtsey, +"if it weren't asking too much," and she curtsied +once more, "if you would"—and her eyes begged—"a +jar of brandy," she said at last, "and I'd rub +your little one's feet with it; they're as tender as one's +tongue."</p> + +<p>Once rid of the nurse, Emma again took Monsieur +Léon's arm. She walked fast for some time, then +more slowly, and looking straight in front of her, her +eyes rested on the shoulder of the young man, whose +frock-coat had a black-velvet collar. His brown hair +fell over it, straight and carefully arranged. She +noticed his nails, which were longer than one wore +them at Yonville. It was one of the clerk's chief occupations +to trim them, and for this purpose he kept +a special knife in his writing-desk.</p> + +<p>They returned to Yonville by the <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: water-side">waterside</ins>. In +the warm season the bank, wider than at other times, +showed to its foot the garden walls, whence a few +steps led to the river. It flowed noiselessly, swift, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +and cold to the eye; long, thin grasses huddled together +in it as the current drove them, and spread +themselves upon the limpid water like streaming hair; +sometimes at the top of the reeds or on the leaf of +a water-lily an insect with thin legs crawled or +rested. The sun pierced with a ray the small blue +bubbles of the waves that, breaking, followed each +other; branchless old willows mirrored their gray +backs in the water; beyond, all around, the meadows +seemed empty. It was the dinner-hour at the farms, +and the young woman and her companion heard +nothing as they walked but the fall of their steps on +the earth of the path, the words they spoke, and the +sound of Emma's skirts rustling around her.</p> + +<p>The walls of the gardens, with pieces of bottle on +their coping, were as hot as the glass windows of a +conservatory. Wallflowers had sprung up between +the bricks, and with the tip of her open sunshade +Madame Bovary, as she passed, made some of their +faded flowers crumble into a yellow dust, or a spray +of overhanging honeysuckle and clematis caught in +its fringe and dangled for a moment over the silk.</p> + +<p>They were talking of a troupe of Spanish dancers +who were expected shortly at the Rouen theatre.</p> + +<p>"Are you going?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"If I can," he answered.</p> + +<p>Had they nothing else to say to one another? +Yet their eyes were full of more serious speech, and +while they forced themselves to find trivial phrases +they felt the same languor stealing over them both. +It was the whisper of the soul, deep, continuous, +dominating that of their voices. Surprised with +wonder at this strange sweetness, they did not think +of speaking of the sensation or of seeking its cause. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +Coming joys, like tropical shores, throw over the immensity +before them their inborn softness, an odorous +wind, and we are lulled by this intoxication without +a thought of the horizon that we do not even know.</p> + +<p>In one place the ground had been trodden down +by the cattle; they had to step on large green stones +put here and there in the mud. She often stopped +a moment to look where to place her foot, and tottering +on the stone that shook, her arms outspread, +her form bent forward with a look of indecision, she +would laugh, afraid of falling into the puddles of +water.</p> + +<p>When they arrived in front of her garden, Madame +Bovary opened the little gate, ran up the steps and +disappeared.</p> + +<p>Léon returned to his office. His chief was away; +he just glanced at the briefs, then cut himself a pen, +and at last took up his hat and went out.</p> + +<p>He went to La Pâture at the top of the Argueil +hills at the beginning of the forest; he threw himself +upon the ground under the pines and gazed at the +sky through his fingers.</p> + +<p>"How bored I am!" he said to himself, "how +bored I am!"</p> + +<p>He thought he was to be pitied for living in this +village, with Homais for a friend and Monsieur Guillaumin +for master. The latter, entirely absorbed by +his business, wearing gold-rimmed spectacles and +red whiskers over a white cravat, understood nothing +of mental refinements, although he affected a stiff +English manner, which in the beginning had impressed +the clerk.</p> + +<p>As to the chemist's spouse, she was the best wife +in Normandy, gentle as a sheep, loving her children, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +her father, her mother, her cousins, weeping for +others' woes, letting everything go in her household, +and detesting corsets; but so slow of movement, such +a bore to listen to, so common in appearance, and of +such restricted conversation, that although she was +thirty, he only twenty, although they slept in rooms +next each other and he spoke to her daily, he never +thought that she might be a woman for another, or +that she possessed anything else of her sex than the +gown.</p> + +<p>And what else was there? Binet, a few shopkeepers, +two or three publicans, the curé, and, finally, +Monsieur Tuvache, the mayor, with his two sons, +rich, crabbed, obtuse persons, who farmed their own +lands and had feasts among themselves, bigoted to +boot, and quite unbearable companions.</p> + +<p>But from the general background of all these human +faces Emma's stood out isolated and yet farthest +off; for between her and him he seemed to see a +vague abyss.</p> + +<p>In the beginning he had called on her several +times along with the druggist. Charles had not appeared +particularly anxious to see him again, and +Léon did not know what to do between his fear of +being indiscreet and the desire for an intimacy that +seemed almost impossible.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 119px;"> +<img src="images/i149.jpg" width="119" height="55" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Silent_Homage" id="Silent_Homage"></a><span class="smcap">Silent Homage.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap150"><span class="dropcap">W</span></span><br />HEN the first cold days set in Emma +left her bedroom for the sitting-room, +a long apartment with a +low ceiling, in which there was +on the mantelpiece a large bunch +of coral spread out against the +looking-glass. Seated in her <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chair">armchair</ins> near the window, +she could see the villagers pass along the +pavement.</p> + +<p>Twice a day Léon went from his office to the +Lion d'Or. Emma could hear him coming from afar; +she leant forward listening, and the young man glided +past the curtain, always dressed in the same way, +and without turning his head. But in the twilight, +when, her chin resting on her left hand, she let the +embroidery she had begun fall on her knees, she often +shuddered at the apparition of this shadow suddenly +gliding past. She would get up and order the table +to be laid.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Homais called at dinner-time. Skull-cap +in hand, he came in on tiptoe, in order to disturb no +one, always repeating the same phrase, "Good evening, +everybody." Then, when he had taken his seat +at table between the pair, he asked the doctor about +his patients, and the latter consulted him as to the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +probability of their payment. Next they talked of +what was in the paper. Homais by this hour knew +it almost by heart, and he repeated it from end +to end, with the reflections of the penny-a-liners, and +all the stories of individual catastrophes that had occurred +in France or abroad. But the subject becoming +exhausted, he was not slow in throwing out +some remarks on the dishes before him. Sometimes +even, half-rising, he delicately pointed out to Madame +the tenderest morsel, or turning to the servant, gave +her some advice on the manipulation of stews and +the hygiene of seasoning. He talked aroma, osmazome, +juices, and gelatine in a bewildering manner. +Moreover, Homais, with his head fuller of recipes +than his shop of jars, excelled in making all kinds of +preserves, vinegars, and sweet liqueurs; he knew also +all the last inventions in economic stoves, together +with the art of preserving cheeses and of curing sick +wines.</p> + +<p>At eight o'clock Justin came to fetch him to shut +up the shop. Then Monsieur Homais gave him a sly +look, especially if Félicité was there, for he had noticed +that his apprentice was fond of the doctor's +house.</p> + +<p>"The young dog," he said, "is beginning to have +ideas, and the devil take me if I don't believe he's in +love with your servant!"</p> + +<p>But a more serious fault with which he reproached +Justin was his constantly listening to conversation. +On Sunday, for example, one could not get him out +of the drawing-room, whither Madame Homais had +called him to fetch the children, who were falling +asleep in the <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chairs">armchairs</ins>, and dragging down with +their backs calico chair-covers that were too large.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +Not many people came to these soirées at the +chemist's, his scandal-mongering and political opinions +having successively alienated various respectable +persons from him. The clerk never failed to be there. +As soon as he heard the bell he ran to meet Madame +Bovary, took her shawl, and put away under the +shop-counter the thick list shoes that she wore over +her boots when there was snow.</p> + +<p>First they played some hands at trente-et-un; next +Monsieur Homais played écarté with Emma; Léon behind +her gave her advice. Standing up with his +hands on the back of her chair, he saw the teeth of +her comb that bit into her chignon. With every +movement that she made to throw her cards the right +side of her bodice was drawn up. From her turned-up +hair a dark color fell over her back, and growing +gradually paler, lost itself little by little in the shade. +Then her skirt fell on both sides of her chair, puffing +out, full of folds, and reaching the floor. When Léon +occasionally felt the sole of his boot resting on it, he +drew back as if he had trodden upon some one.</p> + +<p>When the game of cards was over, the druggist +and the Doctor played dominoes, and Emma, changing +her place, leant her elbow on the table, turning +over the leaves of "L'Illustration." She had brought +her ladies' journal with her. Léon sat down near her; +they looked at the engravings together, and waited +for each other at the bottom of the pages. She often +begged him to read her the verses; Léon declaimed +them in a languid voice, to which he carefully gave +a dying fall in the love passages. But the noise of +the dominoes annoyed him. Monsieur Homais was +strong at the game; he could beat Charles and give +him a double-six. Then, the three hundred finished, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +they both stretched themselves out in front of the fire, +and were soon asleep. The fire was dying out in the +cinders; the teapot was empty, Léon was still reading. +Emma listened to him, mechanically turning +round the lamp-shade, on the gauze of which were +painted clowns in carriages, and tight-rope dancers +with their balancing-poles. Léon stopped, pointing +with a gesture to his sleeping audience; then they +talked in low tones, and their conversation seemed +the more sweet to them because it was unheard.</p> + +<p>Thus a kind of bond was established between +them, a constant commerce of books and of romances. +Monsieur Bovary, little given to jealousy, did not +trouble himself about it.</p> + +<p>On his birthday he received a beautiful phrenological +head, all marked with figures to the thorax, and +painted blue. This was an attention of the clerk's. +He showed him many others, even to doing errands for +him at Rouen; and the book of a novelist having +made the mania for cactuses fashionable, Léon bought +some for Madame Bovary, bringing them back on his +knees in the "Hirondelle," pricking his fingers with +their stiff hairs.</p> + +<p>She had a board with a balustrade fixed against +her window to hold the pots. The clerk, too, had +his small hanging garden; they saw each other tending +their flowers at their windows.</p> + +<p>Of the windows of the village there was one yet +more often occupied; for on Sundays, from morning to +night, and every morning when the weather was +bright, one could see at the dormer-window of a +garret the profile of Monsieur Binet bending over his +lathe, whose monotonous humming could be heard +at the Lion d'Or.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +One evening on coming home Léon found in his +room a rug in velvet and wool with leaves on a pale +ground. He called Madame Homais, Monsieur Homais, +Justin, the children, the cook; he spoke of it to his +chief; every one wished to see this rug. Why did the +doctor's wife give the clerk presents? It looked queer. +They decided that she must be in love with him.</p> + +<p>He made this seem likely, so ceaselessly did he +talk of her charms and of her wit; so much so, that +Binet once roughly answered him:</p> + +<p>"What does it matter to me since I'm not in her +set?"</p> + +<p>He tortured himself to find out how he could +make his declaration to her, and, always halting between +the fear of displeasing her and the shame of +being such a coward, he wept with discouragement +and desire. Then he took energetic resolutions, wrote +letters that he tore up, put it off to times that he +again deferred. Often he set out with the determination +to dare all; but this resolution soon deserted him +in Emma's presence, and when Charles, dropping in, +invited him to jump into his chaise to go with him +to see some patient in the neighborhood, he at once +accepted, bowed to madame, and went out. Her +husband, was he not something belonging to her?</p> + +<p>As to Emma, she did not ask herself whether she +loved. Love, she thought, must come suddenly, with +great outbursts and lightnings,—a hurricane of the +skies, which falls upon life, revolutionizes it, roots up +the will like a leaf, and sweeps the whole heart into +the abyss. She did not know that on the terraces of +houses lakes are formed when the pipes are choked, +and she would thus have remained in her security +when she suddenly discovered a rent in its wall.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Smothered_Flames" id="Smothered_Flames"></a><span class="smcap">Smothered Flames.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap155"><span class="dropcap">I</span></span><br />T WAS a Sunday in February, an +afternoon when the snow was falling.</p> + +<p>They had all, Monsieur and +Madame Bovary, Homais, and +Monsieur Léon, gone to see a yarn-mill +that was being built in the valley a mile and half +from Yonville. The druggist had taken <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads "Napoleon" without an accent">Napoléon</ins> and +Athalie to give them some exercise, and Justin accompanied +them, carrying the umbrellas on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Nothing, however, could be less curious than this +curiosity. A great piece of waste ground, on which +pell-mell, amid a mass of sand and stones, were a +few brake-wheels, already rusty, surrounded by a +quadrangular building pierced by a number of little +windows. The building was unfinished; the sky +could be seen through the joists of the roofing. Attached +to the top-plank of the gable a bunch of straw +mixed with corn-ears fluttered its tricolored ribbons +in the wind.</p> + +<p>Homais was talking. He explained to the company +the future importance of this establishment, +computed the strength of the floorings, the thickness +of the walls, and regretted extremely not having a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +yard-stick such as Monsieur Binet possessed for his +own special use.</p> + +<p>Emma, who had taken his arm, bent lightly against +his shoulder, and she looked at the sun's disc shedding +afar through the mist his pale splendor. She +turned. Charles was there. His cap was drawn +down over his eyebrows, and his two thick lips were +trembling, which added a look of stupidity to his +face; his very back, his calm back, was irritating to +behold, and she saw written upon his coat all the +platitude of the bearer.</p> + +<p>While she was considering him thus, tasting in her +irritation a sort of depraved pleasure, Léon made a +step forward. The cold that made him pale seemed +to add a more gentle languor to his face; between +his cravat and his neck the somewhat loose collar of +his shirt showed the skin; the lobe of his ear looked +out from beneath a lock of hair, and his large blue +eyes, raised to the clouds, seemed to Emma more +limpid and more beautiful than those mountain-lakes +where the heavens are mirrored.</p> + +<p>"Wretched boy!" suddenly cried the chemist.</p> + +<p>And he ran to his son, who had just precipitated +himself into a heap of lime in order to whiten his +boots. At the reproaches with which he was being +overwhelmed <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads "Napoleon" without an accent">Napoléon</ins> began to roar, while Justin +dried his shoes with a wisp of straw. But a knife +was wanted; Charles offered his.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she said to herself, "he carries a knife in +his pocket like a peasant."</p> + +<p>The hoar-frost was falling, and they turned back +to Yonville.</p> + +<p>In the evening Madame Bovary did not go to her +neighbor's, and when Charles had left and she felt +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +herself alone, the comparison recurred with the clearness +of a sensation almost actual, and with that +lengthening of perspective which memory gives to +things. Looking from her bed at the clear fire that +was burning, she still saw, as she had down there, +Léon standing up with one hand bending his cane, +and with the other holding Athalie, who was quietly +sucking a piece of ice. She thought him charming; +she could not tear herself away from him; she recalled +his other attitudes on other days, the words he +had spoken, the sound of his voice, his whole person; +and she repeated, pouting out her lips as if for +a kiss—</p> + +<p>"Yes, charming! charming! Is he not in love?" +she asked herself; "but with whom? With me?"</p> + +<p>All the proofs arose before her at once; her heart +leapt. The flame of the fire threw a joyous light +upon the ceiling; she turned on her back, stretching +out her arms.</p> + +<p>Then began the eternal lamentation: "Oh, if +Heaven had but willed it! And why not? What +prevented it?"</p> + +<p>When Charles came home at midnight, she seemed +to have just awakened, and as he made a noise undressing, +she complained of a headache, then asked +carelessly what had happened that evening.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Léon," he said, "went to his room +early."</p> + +<p>She could not help smiling, and she fell asleep, +her soul filled with a new delight.</p> + +<p>The next day, at dusk, she received a visit from +Monsieur Lheureux, the draper. He was a man of +ability, was this shopkeeper. Born a Gascon but bred +a Norman, he grafted upon his southern volubility the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +cunning of the Cauchois. His fat, flabby, beardless +face seemed dyed by a decoction of liquorice, and his +white hair made even more vivid the keen brilliance +of his small black eyes. No one knew what he had +been formerly; a pedlar, said some, a banker at Routot, +according to others. What was certain was, that he +made complex calculations in his head that would +have frightened Binet himself. Polite to obsequiousness, +he always held himself with his back bent in +the position of one who bows or who invites.</p> + +<p>After leaving at the door his hat surrounded with +crape, he put down a green bandbox on the table, +and began by complaining to madame, with many +civilities, that he should have remained till that day +without gaining her confidence. A poor shop like +his was not made to attract a "fashionable lady;" he +emphasized the words; yet she had only to command, +and he would undertake to provide her with anything +she might wish, either in haberdashery or linen, millinery +or fancy goods, for he went to town regularly +four times a month. He was connected with the +best houses. You could speak of him at the "Trois +Frères," at the "Barbe d'Or," or at the "Grand +Sauvage;" all these gentlemen knew him as well as +the insides of their pockets. To-day, then, he had +come to show madame, in passing, various articles +he happened to have, thanks to the most rare opportunity. +And he pulled out half-a-dozen embroidered +collars from the box.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary examined them. "I do not require +anything," she said.</p> + +<p>Then Monsieur Lheureux delicately exhibited three +Algerian scarves, several packets of English needles, +a pair of straw slippers, and, finally, four eggcups in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +cocoa-nut wood, carved in open-work by convicts. +Then, with both hands on the table, his neck stretched +out, his figure bent forward, open-mouthed, he watched +Emma's look, who was walking up and down undecided +amid these goods. From time to time, as if to +remove some dust, he filliped with his nail the silk +of the scarves spread out at full length, and they +rustled with a little noise, making in the green twilight +the gold spangles of their tissue scintillate like +little stars.</p> + +<p>"How much are they?"</p> + +<p>"A mere nothing," he replied, "a mere nothing. +But there's no hurry; whenever it's convenient. We +are not Jews."</p> + +<p>She reflected for a few moments, and ended by +again declining Monsieur Lheureux's offer. He replied +quite unconcernedly:</p> + +<p>"Very well. We shall understand each other by +and by. I have always got on with ladies—if I +didn't with my own!"</p> + +<p>Emma smiled.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to tell you," he went on good-naturedly, +after his joke, "that it isn't the money I should +trouble about. Why, I could give you some, if need +be."</p> + +<p>She made a gesture of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said he quickly and in a low voice, "I +shouldn't have to go far to find you some, rely on +that."</p> + +<p>And he began asking after Père Tellier, the proprietor +of the "Café Français," whom Monsieur Bovary +was then attending.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with Père Tellier? He coughs +so that he shakes his whole house, and I'm afraid +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +he'll soon want a deal covering rather than a flannel +vest. He was such a rake as a young man! That +sort of people, madame, have not the least regularity; +he's burnt up with brandy. Still it's sad, all the same, +to see an acquaintance go off."</p> + +<p>And while he fastened up his box he discoursed +about the doctor's patients.</p> + +<p>"It's the weather, no doubt," he said, looking +frowningly at the floor, "that causes these illnesses. +I, too, don't feel the thing. One of these days I shall +even have to consult the doctor for a pain I have in +my back. Well, good-bye, Madame Bovary. At your +service; your very humble servant." And he closed +the door gently.</p> + +<p>Emma had her dinner served in her bedroom on +a tray by the fireside; she was a long time over it; +everything was well with her.</p> + +<p>"How good I was!" she said to herself, thinking +of the scarves.</p> + +<p>She heard some steps on the stairs. It was Léon. +She got up and took from the chest of drawers the +first of a pile of dusters to be hemmed. When he +came in she seemed very busy.</p> + +<p>The conversation languished; Madame Bovary gave +it up every few minutes, while he himself seemed +quite embarrassed. Seated on a low chair near the +fire, he turned round in his fingers the ivory thimble-case. +She stitched on, or from time to time turned +down the hem of the cloth with her nail. She did +not speak; he was silent, captivated by her silence, +as he would have been by her speech.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow!" she thought.</p> + +<p>"How have I displeased her?" he asked himself.</p> + +<p>At last, however, Léon said that he should have, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +one of these days, to go to Rouen on some office +business.</p> + +<p>"Your music subscription is out; am I to renew +it?"</p> + +<p>"No," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because—"</p> + +<p>And pursing her lips she slowly drew a long +stitch of gray thread.</p> + +<p>This work irritated Léon. It seemed to roughen +the ends of her fingers. A gallant phrase came into +his head, but he did not risk it.</p> + +<p>"Then you are giving it up?" he went on.</p> + +<p>"What?" she asked hurriedly. "Music? Ah! +yes! Have I not my house to look after, my husband +to attend to, a thousand things, in fact, many +duties that must be considered first?"</p> + +<p>She looked at the clock. Charles was late. Then +she affected anxiety. Two or three times she even +repeated, "He is so good!"</p> + +<p>The clerk was fond of Monsieur Bovary. But this +tenderness in his behalf astonished him unpleasantly; +nevertheless he took up his praises, which he said +every one was singing, especially the chemist.</p> + +<p>"Ah! he is a good fellow," continued Emma.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," replied the clerk.</p> + +<p>And he began talking of Madame Homais, whose +very untidy appearance generally made them laugh.</p> + +<p>"What does it matter?" interrupted Emma. "A +good housewife does not trouble about her appearance."</p> + +<p>Then she relapsed into silence.</p> + +<p>It was the same on the following days; her talk, +her manners, everything changed. She took interest +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +in the house-work, went to church regularly, and +looked after her servant with more severity.</p> + +<p>She took Berthe from nurse. When visitors called, +Félicité brought her in, and Madame Bovary undressed +her to show off her limbs. She declared she adored +children; this was her consolation, her joy, her passion, +and she accompanied her caresses with lyrical +outbursts which would have reminded any one but +the Yonville people of Sachette in "Nôtre Dame de +Paris."</p> + +<p>When Charles came home he found his slippers +put to warm near the fire. His waistcoat now never +wanted lining, nor his shirt buttons, and it was quite +a pleasure to see in the cupboard the <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: night-caps">nightcaps</ins> arranged +in piles of the same height. She no longer +grumbled as formerly at taking a turn in the garden; +what he proposed was always done, although she did +not understand the wishes to which she submitted +without a murmur; and when Léon saw him by his +fireside after dinner, his two hands on his stomach, +his two feet on the fender, his cheeks red with feeding, +his eyes moist with happiness, the child crawling +along the carpet, and this woman with the slender +waist who came behind his <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chair">armchair</ins> to kiss his forehead:</p> + +<p>"What madness!" he said to himself. "And how +to reach her!"</p> + +<p>And thus she seemed so virtuous and inaccessible +to him that he lost all hope, even the faintest. But +by this renunciation he placed her on an extraordinary +pinnacle. To him she stood outside those fleshly attributes +from which he had nothing to obtain, and in +his heart she rose ever, and became farther removed +from him after the magnificent manner of an apotheosis +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +that is taking wing. It was one of those pure +feelings that do not interfere with life, that are cultivated +because they are rare, and whose loss would +afflict more than their passion rejoices.</p> + +<p>Emma grew thinner, her cheeks paler, her face +longer. With her black hair, her large eyes, her +aquiline nose, her birdlike walk, and always silent +now, did she not seem to be passing through life +scarcely touching it, and to bear on her brow the +vague impress of some divine destiny? She was so +sad and so calm, at once so gentle and so reserved, +that near her one felt oneself seized by an icy charm, +as we shudder in churches at the perfume of the +flowers mingling with the cold of the marble. The +others even did not escape from this seduction. The +chemist said—</p> + +<p>"She is a woman of great parts, who wouldn't be +misplaced in a sub-prefecture."</p> + +<p>The housewives admired her economy, the patients +her politeness, the poor her charity.</p> + +<p>But she was eaten up with desires, with rage, with +hate. That dress with the narrow folds hid a distracted +heart, of whose torment those chaste lips said +nothing. She was in love with Léon, and sought +solitude that she might with the more ease delight in his +image. The sight of his form troubled the voluptuousness +of this meditation. Emma thrilled at the +sound of his step; then in his presence the emotion +subsided, and afterwards there remained to her only +an immense astonishment that ended in sorrow.</p> + +<p>Léon did not know that when he left her in despair, +she rose after he had gone to see him in the +street. She concerned herself about his comings and +goings; she watched his face; she invented quite a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +history to find an excuse for going to his room. The +chemist's wife seemed happy to her to sleep under the +same roof, and her thoughts constantly centred upon this +house, like the "Lion d'Or" pigeons, who came there +to dip their red feet and white wings in its gutters. +But the more Emma recognized her love, the more +she crushed it down, that it might not be evident, +that she might make it less. She would have liked +Léon to guess it, and she imagined chances, catastrophes +that should facilitate this. What restrained her +was, no doubt, idleness and fear, and a sense of shame +also. She thought she had repulsed him too much, +that the time was past, that all was lost. Then pride, +the joy of being able to say to herself, "I am virtuous," +and to look at herself in the glass taking +resigned poses, consoled her a little for the sacrifice +she believed she was making.</p> + +<p>Then the lusts of the flesh, the longing for money, +and the melancholy of passion, all blended themselves +into one suffering, and instead of turning her thoughts +from it, she clave to it the more, urging herself to +pain, and seeking everywhere occasions for it. She +was irritated by an ill-served dish or by a half-open +door; bewailed the velvets she had not, the happiness +she had missed, her too exalted dreams, her narrow +home.</p> + +<p>What exasperated her was that Charles did not +seem to notice her anguish. His conviction that he +was making her happy seemed to her an imbecile insult, +and his sureness on this point ingratitude. For +whose sake, then, was she virtuous? Was it not for +him, the obstacle to all felicity, the cause of all misery, +and, as it were, the sharp clasp of that complex strap +that buckled her in on all sides?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +On him alone, then, she concentrated all the various +hatreds that resulted from her boredom, and every +effort to diminish only augmented it; for this useless +trouble was added to the other reasons for despair, +and contributed still more to the separation between +them. Her own gentleness to herself made her rebel +against him. Domestic mediocrity drove her to lewd +fancies, marriage tendernesses to adulterous desires. +She would have liked Charles to beat her, that she +might have a better right to hate him, to revenge +herself upon him. She was surprised sometimes at +the atrocious conjectures that came into her thoughts, +and she had to go on smiling, to hear repeated to +her at all hours that she was happy, to pretend to be +happy, to let it be believed.</p> + +<p>Yet she had loathing of this hypocrisy. She was +seized with the temptation to flee somewhere with +Léon to try a new life; but at once a vague chasm +full of darkness opened within her soul.</p> + +<p>"Besides, he no longer loves me," she thought. +"What is to become of me? What help is to be +hoped for, what consolation, what solace?"</p> + +<p>She was left broken, breathless, inert, sobbing in +a low voice, with flowing tears.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you tell master?" the servant asked +her when she came in during these crises.</p> + +<p>"It is the nerves," said Emma. "Do not speak +to him of it; it would worry him."</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes," Félicité went on, "you are just like +La Guérine, Père Guérin's daughter, the fisherman at +Pollet, that I used to know at Dieppe before I came +to you. She was so sad, so sad, that to see her +standing upright on the threshold of her house, she +seemed to you like a winding-sheet spread out before +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +the door. Her illness, it appears, was a kind of fog +that she had in her head, and the doctors could not +do anything, nor the priest either. When she was +taken too bad she went off quite alone to the seashore, +so that the customs officer, going his rounds, +often found her lying flat on her face, crying on the +shingle. Then, after her marriage, it went off, they +say."</p> + +<p>"But with me," replied Emma, "it was after marriage +that it began."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 129px;"> +<img src="images/i166.jpg" width="129" height="65" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Spiritual_Counsel" id="Spiritual_Counsel"></a><span class="smcap">Spiritual Counsel.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap167"><span class="dropcap">O</span></span><br />NE evening when the window was +open, and she, sitting by it, had +been watching Lestiboudois, the +beadle, trimming the box, she +suddenly heard the Angelus ringing.</p> + +<p>It was the beginning of April, when the primroses +are in bloom, and a warm wind blows over the +flower-beds newly turned, and the gardens, like +women, seem to be getting ready for the summer +fêtes. Through the bars of the arbor and away +beyond, the river could be seen in the fields, meandering +through the grass in wandering curves. The evening +vapors rose between the leafless poplars, touching +their outlines with a violet tint, paler and more +transparent than a subtle gauze caught athwart their +branches. In the distance cattle moved about; neither +their steps nor their lowing could be heard; and the +bell, still ringing through the air, kept up its peaceful +lamentation.</p> + +<p>With this repeated tinkling the thoughts of the +young woman lost themselves in old memories of +her youth and school-days. She remembered the +great candlesticks that rose above the vases full of +flowers on the altar, and the tabernacle with its +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +small columns. She would have liked to be once +more lost in the long line of white veils, marked off +here and there by the stiff black hoods of the good +sisters bending over their prie-Dieu. At mass on Sundays, +when she looked up, she saw the gentle face of +the Virgin amid the blue smoke of the rising incense. +Then she was moved; she felt herself weak and +quite deserted, like the down of a bird whirled by +the tempest, and it was unconsciously that she went +towards the church, inclined to no matter what devotions, +so that her soul was absorbed and all existence +lost in it.</p> + +<p>On the Place she met Lestiboudois on his way +back, for, in order not to shorten his day's labor, he +preferred interrupting his work, then beginning it +again, so that he rang the Angelus to suit his own +convenience. Besides, the ringing over a little earlier +warned the lads of catechism hour.</p> + +<p>Already a few who had arrived were playing +marbles on the stones of the cemetery. Others, +astride the wall, swung their legs, kicking with their +clogs the large nettles growing between the little +enclosure and the newest graves. This was the only +green spot. All the rest was but stones, always +covered with a fine powder, despite the vestry-broom.</p> + +<p>The children in list shoes ran about there as if it +were an enclosure made for them. The shouts of +their voices could be heard through the humming of +the bell. This grew less and less with the swinging +of the great rope that, hanging from the top of the +belfry, dragged its end on the ground. Swallows +flitted to and fro uttering little cries, cut the air with +the edge of their wings, and swiftly returned to their +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +yellow nests under the tiles of the coping. At the +end of the church a lamp was burning, the wick of +a night-light in a glass hung up. Its light from a +distance looked like a white stain trembling in the +oil. A long ray of the sun fell across the nave and +seemed to darken the lower sides and the corners.</p> + +<p>"Where is the curé?" asked Madame Bovary of +one of the lads, who was amusing himself by shaking +a swivel in a hole too large for it.</p> + +<p>"He is just coming," he answered.</p> + +<p>And in fact the door of the presbytery grated; +Abbé Bournisien appeared; the children, pell-mell, fled +into the church.</p> + +<p>"These young scamps!" murmured the priest, +"always the same!" Then, picking up a catechism +all in rags that he had struck with his foot, "They +respect nothing!" But as soon as he caught sight of +Madame Bovary, "Excuse me," he said; "I did not +recognize you."</p> + +<p>He thrust the catechism into his pocket, and +stopped short, balancing the heavy vestry key between +his two fingers.</p> + +<p>The light of the setting sun that fell full upon +his face paled the lasting of his cassock, shiny at the +elbows, ravelled at the hem. Grease and tobacco +stains followed along his broad chest the lines of the +buttons, and grew more numerous the farther they +were from his neckcloth, in which the massive folds +of his red chin rested; this was dotted with yellow +spots, that disappeared beneath the coarse hair of his +greyish beard. He had just dined, and was breathing +noisily.</p> + +<p>"How are you?" he added.</p> + +<p>"Not well," replied Emma; "I am ill."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +"Well, and so am I," answered the priest. "These +first warm days weaken one most remarkably, don't +they? But, after all, we are born to suffer, as St. +Paul says. But what does Monsieur Bovary think +of it?"</p> + +<p>"He!" she said with a gesture of contempt.</p> + +<p>"What!" replied the good fellow, quite astonished, +"doesn't he prescribe something for you?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Emma, "it is no earthly remedy I +need."</p> + +<p>But the curé from time to time looked into the +church, where the kneeling boys were shouldering +one another, and tumbling over like packs of cards.</p> + +<p>"I should like to know—" she went on.</p> + +<p>"You look out, Riboudet," cried the priest in an +angry voice; "I'll warm your ears, you imp!" Then +turning to Emma. "He's Boudet the carpenter's son; +his parents are well off, and let him do just as he +pleases. Yet he could learn quickly if he would, for +he is very sharp. And so sometimes for a joke I call +him <i>Ri</i>boudet (like the road one takes to go to Maromme), +and I even say '<i>Mon</i> Riboudet.' Ha! ha! +'<i>Mont</i> Riboudet.' The other day I repeated that jest +to Monsignor, and he laughed at it; he condescended +to laugh at it. And how is Monsieur Bovary?"</p> + +<p>She seemed not to hear him. And he went on:</p> + +<p>"Always very busy, no doubt; for he and I are +certainly the busiest people in the parish. But he is +doctor of the body," he added with a thick laugh, +"and I of the soul."</p> + +<p>She fixed her pleading eyes upon the priest. +"Yes," she said, "you solace all sorrows."</p> + +<p>"Ah! don't talk to me of it, Madame Bovary. +This morning I had to go to Bas-Diauville for a cow +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +that was ill; they thought it was under a spell. All +their cows, I don't know how it is—But pardon me! +Longuemarre and Boudet! Bless me! will you leave +off?"</p> + +<p>And with a bound he ran into the church.</p> + +<p>The boys were just then clustering round the large +desk, climbing over the precentor's footstool, opening +the missal; and others on tiptoe were just about to +venture into the confessional. But the priest suddenly +distributed a shower of cuffs among them. Seizing +them by the collars of their coats, he lifted them from +the ground, and deposited them on their knees on the +stones of the choir, firmly, as if he meant planting +them there.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he, when he returned to Emma, unfolding +his large cotton handkerchief, one corner of +which he put between his teeth, "farmers are much +to be pitied."</p> + +<p>"Others, too," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Assuredly. Town-laborers, for example."</p> + +<p>"It is not they—"</p> + +<p>"Pardon! I've there known poor mothers of families, +virtuous women, I assure you, real saints, who +wanted even bread."</p> + +<p>"But those," replied Emma, and the corners of +her mouth twitched as she spoke, "those, Monsieur +le Curé, who have bread and have no—"</p> + +<p>"Fire in the winter," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what does that matter?"</p> + +<p>"What! What does it matter? It seems to me +that when one has firing and food—for, after all—"</p> + +<p>"My God! my God!" she sighed.</p> + +<p>"Do you feel unwell?" he asked, approaching her +anxiously. "It is indigestion, no doubt? You must +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +get home, Madame Bovary; drink a little tea, that +will strengthen you, or else a glass of fresh water +with a little moist sugar."</p> + +<p>"Why?" And she looked like one awaking +from a dream.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, you were putting your hand to +your forehead. I thought you felt faint." Then, bethinking +himself, "But you were asking me something? +What was it? I really don't remember."</p> + +<p>"I? Nothing! nothing!" repeated Emma.</p> + +<p>And the glance she cast round her slowly fell +upon the old man in the cassock. They looked at +one another face to face without speaking.</p> + +<p>"Then, Madame Bovary," he said at last, "excuse +me, but duty first, you know; I must look after +my good-for-nothings. The first communion will +soon be upon us, and I fear we shall be behind after +all. So after Ascension Day I keep them <i>recta</i> an +extra hour every Wednesday. Poor children! One +cannot lead them too soon into the path of the Lord, +as, moreover, he has himself recommended us to do +by the mouth of His Divine Son. Good health to +you, madame; my respects to your husband."</p> + +<p>And he went into the church making a genuflexion +as soon as he reached the door.</p> + +<p>Emma saw him disappear between the double +row of forms, walking with heavy tread, his head a +little bent over his shoulder, and with his two hands +half-open behind him.</p> + +<p>Then she turned on her heel with one movement, +like a statue on a pivot, and went homewards. But +the loud voice of the priest, the clear voices of the +boys still reached her ears, and went on behind her.</p> + +<p>"Are you a Christian?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +"Yes, I am a Christian?"</p> + +<p>"What is a Christian?"</p> + +<p>"He who, being baptized—baptized—baptized—"</p> + +<p>She went up the steps of the staircase holding on +to the banisters, and when she was in her room +threw herself into an <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chair">armchair</ins>.</p> + +<p>The whitish light of the window-panes fell with +soft undulations. The furniture in its place seemed +to have become more immobile, and to lose itself in +the shadow as in an ocean of darkness. The fire was +out, the clock went on ticking, and Emma vaguely +marvelled at this calm of all things while within herself +was such tumult. But little Berthe was there, +between the window and the work-table, tottering on +her knitted shoes, and trying to come to her mother +to catch hold of the ends of her apron-strings.</p> + +<p>"Leave me alone," said the latter, putting her +from her with her hand.</p> + +<p>The little girl soon came up closer against her +knees, and leaning on them with her arms, she looked +up with her large blue eyes, while a small thread of +pure saliva dribbled from her lips on to the silk apron.</p> + +<p>"Leave me alone," repeated the young woman +quite irritably.</p> + +<p>Her face frightened the child, who began to scream.</p> + +<p>"Will you leave me alone?" she said, pushing +her with her elbow.</p> + +<p>Berthe fell at the foot of the drawers against the +brass handle, cutting against it her cheek, which +began to bleed. Madame Bovary sprang to lift her +up, broke the bell-rope, called for the servant with +all her might, and she was just going to curse herself +when Charles appeared. It was the dinner-hour; he +had come home.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +"Look, dear!" said Emma, in a calm voice, "the +little one fell down while she was playing, and has +hurt herself."</p> + +<p>Charles reassured her; the case was not a serious +one, and he went for some sticking plaster.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary did not go downstairs to the +dining-room; she wished to remain alone to look +after the child. Then, watching her sleep, the little +anxiety she felt gradually wore off, and she seemed +very stupid to herself, and very good to have been +so worried just now at so little. Berthe, in fact, no +longer sobbed. Her breathing now imperceptibly +raised the cotton covering. Big tears lay in the corner +of the half-closed eyelids, through whose lashes +one could see two pale sunken pupils; the plaster +stuck on her cheek drew the skin obliquely.</p> + +<p>"It is very strange," thought Emma, "how ugly +this child is!"</p> + +<p>When at eleven o'clock Charles came back from +the chemist's shop, whither he had gone after dinner +to return the remainder of the sticking-plaster, he +found his wife standing by the cradle.</p> + +<p>"I assure you it's nothing," he said, kissing her +on the forehead. "Don't worry, my poor darling; +you will make yourself ill."</p> + +<p>He had stayed a long time at the chemist's. Although +he had not seemed much moved, Homais, +nevertheless, had exerted himself to buoy him up, to +"keep up his spirits." Then they had talked of the +various dangers that threaten childhood, of the carelessness +of servants. Madame Homais knew something +of it, having still upon her chest the marks left by +a basin full of soup that a cook had formerly dropped +on her pinafore, and her good parents took no end +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +of trouble for her. The knives were not sharpened, +nor the floors waxed; there were iron gratings to the +windows and strong bars across the fireplace; the +little Homaises, in spite of their spirit, could not stir +without some one watching them; at the slightest +cold their father stuffed them with pectorals; and +until they were turned four they all, without pity, had +to wear wadded head-protectors. This, it is true, +was a fancy of Madame Homais's; her husband was +inwardly afflicted at it. Fearing the possible consequences +of such compression to the intellectual organs, +he even went so far as to say to her, "Do +you want to make Caribs or Botocudos of them?"</p> + +<p>Charles, however, had several times tried to interrupt +the conversation. "I should like to speak to +you," he had whispered in the clerk's ear, who went +upstairs in front of him.</p> + +<p>"Can he suspect anything?" Léon asked himself. +His heart beat, and he racked his brain with surmises.</p> + +<p>At last, Charles, having shut the door, asked him +to see himself what would be the price at Rouen of +a fine daguerreotype. It was a sentimental surprise +he intended for his wife, a delicate attention—his +portrait in a frock-coat. But he wanted first to +know how much it would be. The inquiries would +not put Monsieur Léon out, since he went to town +almost every week.</p> + +<p>Why? Monsieur Homais suspected some "young +man's affair" at the bottom of it, an intrigue. But +he was mistaken. Léon was after no love-making. +He was sadder than ever, as Madame Lefrançois saw +from the amount of food he left on his plate. To +find out more about it she questioned the tax-collector. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +Binet answered roughly that he wasn't paid by the +police.</p> + +<p>All the same, his companion seemed very strange +to him, for Léon often threw himself back in his +chair, and stretching out his arms, complained vaguely +of life.</p> + +<p>"It's because you don't take enough recreation," +said the collector.</p> + +<p>"What recreation?"</p> + +<p>"If I were you I'd have a lathe."</p> + +<p>"But I don't know how to turn," answered the +clerk.</p> + +<p>"Ah! that's true," said the other, rubbing his chin +with an air of mingled contempt and satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Léon was weary of loving without any result; +moreover, he was beginning to feel that depression +caused by the repetition of the same kind of life, +when no interest inspires and no hope sustains it. +He was so bored with Yonville and the Yonvillers, +that the sight of certain persons, of certain houses, +irritated him beyond endurance; and the chemist, +good fellow though he was, was becoming absolutely +unbearable to him. Yet the prospect of a new +condition of life frightened as much as it seduced +him.</p> + +<p>This apprehension soon changed into impatience, +and then Paris from afar sounded its fanfare of masked +balls with the laugh of grisettes. As he was to finish +reading there, why not set out at once? What prevented +him? And he began making home preparations; +he arranged his occupations beforehand. He +furnished in his head an apartment. He would lead +an artist's life there! He would take lessons on the +guitar! He would have a dressing-gown, a Basque +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +cap, blue velvet slippers! He even already was admiring +two crossed foils over his chimney-piece, with +a death's-head on the guitar above them.</p> + +<p>The difficulty was the consent of his mother; nothing, +however, seemed more reasonable. Even his +employer advised him to go to some other chambers +where he could advance more rapidly. Taking a +middle course, then, Léon looked for some place as +second clerk at Rouen; found none, and at last wrote +his mother a long letter full of details, in which he +set forth the reasons for going to live at Paris immediately. +She consented.</p> + +<p>He did not hurry. Every day for a month Hivert +carried boxes, valises, parcels for him from Yonville +to Rouen and from Rouen to Yonville; and when +Léon had packed up his wardrobe, had his three +<ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chair">armchairs</ins> restuffed, bought a stock of cravats, in a +word, had made more preparations than for a voyage +round the world, he put it off from week to week, +until he received a second letter from his mother +urging him to leave, since he wanted to pass his examination +before the vacation.</p> + +<p>When the moment for the farewells had come, +Madame Homais wept, Justin sobbed; Homais, as a +man of nerve, concealed his emotion; he wished to +carry his friend's overcoat himself as far as the gate +of the notary, who was taking Léon to Rouen in his +carriage. The latter had just time to bid farewell to +Monsieur Bovary.</p> + +<p>When he reached the head of the stairs he stopped, +he was so out of breath. On his coming in, Madame +Bovary rose hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"It is I again!" said Léon.</p> + +<p>"I was sure of it!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +She bit her lips, and a rush of blood flowing +under her skin made her red from the roots of her +hair to the top of her collar. She remained standing, +leaning with her shoulder against the wainscot.</p> + +<p>"The doctor is not here?" he went on.</p> + +<p>"He is out." She repeated, "He is out."</p> + +<p>Then there was silence. They looked one at the +other, and their thoughts, confounded in the same +agony, clung close together like two throbbing breasts.</p> + +<p>"I should like to kiss Berthe," said Léon.</p> + +<p>Emma went down a few steps and called Félicité.</p> + +<p>He threw one long look around him that took in +the walls, the brackets, the fireplace, as if to penetrate +everything, carry away everything. But she returned, +and the servant brought Berthe, who was +swinging a windmill roof downward at the end of a +string. Léon kissed her several times on the neck.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, poor child! good-bye, dear little one! +good-bye!"</p> + +<p>And he gave her back to her mother.</p> + +<p>"Take her away," she said.</p> + +<p>They remained alone—Madame Bovary, her back +turned, her face pressed against a window-pane; +Léon held his cap in his hand, knocking it softly +against his thigh.</p> + +<p>"It is going to rain," said Emma.</p> + +<p>"I have a cloak," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>She turned round, her chin lowered, her forehead +bent forward. The light fell on it as on a piece of +marble to the curve of the eyebrows, without one's +being able to guess what Emma was seeing in the +horizon or what she was thinking within herself.</p> + +<p>"Well, good-bye," he sighed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +She raised her head with a quick movement.</p> + +<p>"Yes, good-bye—go!"</p> + +<p>They advanced toward each other; he held out his +hand; she hesitated.</p> + +<p>"In the English fashion, then," she said, giving +her own hand wholly to him, and forcing a laugh.</p> + +<p>Léon felt it between his fingers, and the very essence +of all his being seemed to pass down into that +moist palm. Then he opened his hand; their eyes +met again, and he disappeared.</p> + +<p>When he reached the market-place, he stopped +and hid behind a pillar to look for the last time at +this white house with the four green blinds. He +thought he saw a shadow behind the window in the +room; but the curtain, sliding along the pole as though +no one were touching it, slowly opened its long +oblique folds, that spread out with a single movement, +and thus hung straight and motionless as a +plaster wall. Léon set off running.</p> + +<p>From afar he saw his employer's gig in the road, +and by it a man in a coarse apron holding the horse. +Homais and Monsieur Guillaumin were talking. They +were waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"Embrace me," said the chemist with tears in his +eyes. "Here is your coat, my good friend. Mind +the cold; take care of yourself; look after yourself."</p> + +<p>"Come, Léon, jump in," said the notary.</p> + +<p>Homais bent over the splash-board, and in a voice +broken by sobs, uttered these three sad words:</p> + +<p>"A pleasant journey!"</p> + +<p>"Good-night," said Monsieur Guillaumin. "Give +him his head."</p> + +<p>They set out, and Homais went back.</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<p>Madame Bovary had opened her window overlooking +the garden and watched the clouds. They were +gathering round the sunset on the side of Rouen, and +swiftly rolled back their black columns, behind which +the great rays of the sun looked out like the golden +arrows of a suspended trophy, while the rest of the +empty heavens was white as porcelain. But a gust +of wind bowed the poplars, and suddenly the rain +fell; it pattered against the green leaves. Then the +sun reappeared, the hens clucked, sparrows shook +their wings in the damp thickets, and the pools of +water on the gravel as they flowed away carried off +the pink flowers of an acacia.</p> + +<p>"Ah! how far off he must be already!" she thought.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Homais, as usual, came at half-past six +during dinner.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, "so we've sent off our young +friend!"</p> + +<p>"So it seems," replied the doctor. Then turning +on his chair: "Any news at home?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much. Only my wife was a little +moved this afternoon. You know women—a nothing +upsets them, especially my wife. And we should +be wrong to object to that, since their nervous organization +is much more malleable than ours."</p> + +<p>"Poor Léon!" said Charles. "How will he live +at Paris? Will he get used to it?"</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary sighed.</p> + +<p>"Get along!" said the chemist, smacking his lips. +"The outings at restaurants, the masked balls, the +champagne—all that'll be jolly enough, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he'll go wrong," objected Bovary.</p> + +<p>"Nor do I," said Monsieur Homais quickly; "although +he'll have to do like the rest for fear of passing +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +for a Jesuit. And you don't know what a life +those dogs lead in the Latin Quarter with actresses. +Besides, students are thought a great deal of at Paris. +Provided they have a few accomplishments, they are +received in the best society; there are even ladies of +the Faubourg Saint-Germain who fall in love with +them, which subsequently furnishes them opportunities +for making very good matches."</p> + +<p>"But," said the doctor, "I fear for him that down +there—"</p> + +<p>"You are right," interrupted the chemist; "that is +the reverse of the medal. And one is constantly +obliged to keep one's hand in one's pocket there. +Thus, we will suppose you are in a public garden. +An individual presents himself, well dressed, even +wearing an order, whom any one would take for a +diplomatist. He approaches you, he insinuates himself; +offers you a pinch of snuff, or picks up your +hat. Then you become more intimate; he takes you +to a café, invites you to his country-house, introduces +you, between two drinks, to all sorts of people; and +three fourths of the time it's only to plunder your +watch or lead you into some pernicious step."</p> + +<p>"That is true," said Charles; "but I was thinking +especially of illnesses—of typhoid fever, for example, +that attacks students from the provinces."</p> + +<p>Emma shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Because of the change of regimen," continued +the chemist, "and of the perturbation that results +therefrom in the whole system. And then the water +at Paris, don't you know! The dishes at restaurants, +all the spiced food, end by heating the blood, and are +not worth, whatever people may say of them, a good +soup. For my own part, I have always preferred +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +plain living; it is more healthful. So when I was +studying pharmacy at Rouen, I boarded in a boardinghouse; +I dined with the professors."</p> + +<p>And thus he went on, expounding his opinions +generally and his personal likings, until Justin came +to fetch him for a mulled egg that was wanted.</p> + +<p>"Not a moment's peace!" he cried; "always at +it! I can't go out for a minute! Like a plough-horse, +I have always to be moiling and toiling. What +drudgery!" Then, when he was at the door, "By +the way, do you know the news?"</p> + +<p>"What news?"</p> + +<p>"That it is very likely," Homais went on, raising +his eyebrows and assuming one of his most serious +expressions, "that the agricultural meeting of the +Seine-Inférieure will be held this year at Yonville-l'Abbaye. +The rumor, at all events, is going the +round. This morning the paper alluded to it. It +would be of the utmost importance for our district. +But we'll talk it over later on. I can see, thank you; +Justin has the lantern."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 102px;"> +<img src="images/i182.jpg" width="102" height="65" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<h4><a name="A_Womans_Whims" id="A_Womans_Whims"></a><span class="smcap">A Woman's Whims.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap183"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span><br />HE next day was a dreary one for +Emma. Every thing seemed to her +enveloped in a black atmosphere +floating confusedly over the exterior +of things, and sorrow was +engulphed within her soul with soft +shrieks such as the winter wind makes in ruined +castles. It was that reverie which we give to things +that will not return, the lassitude that seizes you after +everything done; that pain, in fine, that the interruption +of every wonted movement, the sudden cessation +of any prolonged vibration, brings on.</p> + +<p>As on the return from Vaubyessard, when the +quadrilles were running in her head, she was full of +a gloomy melancholy, of a numb despair. Léon reappeared, +taller, handsomer, more charming, more +vague. Though separated from her, he had not left +her; he was there, and the walls of the house seemed +to hold his shadow. She could not detach her eyes +from the carpet where he had walked, from those +empty chairs where he had sat. The river still +flowed on, and slowly drove its ripples along the +slippery banks. They had often walked there to the +murmur of the waves, over the moss-covered pebbles. +How bright the sun had been! What happy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +afternoons they had seen alone in the shade at the +end of the garden! He read aloud, bareheaded, sitting +on a footstool of dry sticks; the fresh wind of +the meadow set trembling the leaves of the book and +the nasturtiums of the arbor. Ah! he was gone, the +only charm of her life, the only possible hope of joy. +Why had she not seized this happiness when it +came to her? Why not have kept hold of it with +both hands, with both knees, when it was about to +flee from her? And she cursed herself for not having +loved Léon. She thirsted for his lips. The wish +took possession of her to run after and rejoin him, +throw herself into his arms and say to him, "It is I; +I am yours." But Emma recoiled beforehand at the +difficulties of the enterprise, and her desires, increased +by regret, became only the more acute.</p> + +<p>Henceforth the memory of Léon was the centre +of her boredom; it burnt there more brightly than +the fire travelers leave on the snow of a Russian +steppe. She sprang towards him, she pressed against +him, she stirred carefully the dying embers, sought +all around her anything that could revive it; and the +most distant reminiscences, like the most immediate +occasions, what she experienced as well as what she +imagined, her voluptuous desires that were unsatisfied, +her projects of happiness that crackled in the +wind like dead boughs, her sterile virtue, her lost +hopes, the domestic tête-à-tête,—she gathered it all +up, took everything, and made it all serve as fuel for +her melancholy.</p> + +<p>The flames, however, subsided, either because the +supply had exhausted itself, or because it had been +piled up too much. Love, little by little, was quelled +by absence; regret stifled beneath habit; and this incendiary +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +light that had empurpled her pale sky was +overspread and faded by degrees. In the supineness +of her conscience she even took her repugnance +towards her husband for aspirations towards her +lover, the burning of hate for the warmth of tenderness; +but as the tempest still raged, and as passion +burnt itself down to the very cinders, and no help +came, no sun rose, there was night on all sides, and +she was lost in the terrible cold that pierced her.</p> + +<p>Then the evil days of Tostes began again. She +thought herself now far more unhappy; for she had +the experience of grief, with the certainty that it +would not end.</p> + +<p>A woman who had laid on herself such sacrifices +could well allow herself certain whims. She bought +a gothic prie-Dieu, and in a month spent fourteen +francs on lemons for polishing her nails; she wrote +to Rouen for a blue cashmere gown; she chose one +of Lheureux's finest scarves, and wore it knotted +round her waist over her dressing-gown; and, with +closed blinds and a book in her hand, she lay stretched +out on a couch in this garb.</p> + +<p>She often changed her coiffure; she did her hair +<i>à la Chinoise</i>, in flowing curls, in plaited coils; she +parted it on one side and rolled it under like a +man's.</p> + +<p>She wished to learn Italian; she bought dictionaries, +a grammar, and a supply of white paper. She +tried serious reading, history, and philosophy. Sometimes +in the night Charles woke up with a start, +thinking he was being called to a patient. "I'm coming," +he stammered; and it was the noise of a match +Emma had struck to relight the lamp. But her reading +fared like her pieces of embroidery, all of which, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +only just begun, filled her cupboard; she took it up, +left it, passed on to other books.</p> + +<p>She had attacks in which she could easily have +been driven to commit any folly. She maintained one +day, in opposition to her husband, that she could +drink off a large glass of brandy, and, as Charles was +stupid enough to dare her to, she swallowed the +brandy to the last drop.</p> + +<p>In spite of her vaporish airs (as the housewives +of Yonville called them), Emma, all the same, never +seemed gay, and usually she had at the corners of +her mouth that immobile contraction that puckers the +faces of old maids, and those of men whose ambition +has failed. She was pale all over, white as a sheet; +the skin of her nose was drawn at the nostrils, her +eyes looked at you vaguely. After discovering three +gray hairs on her temples, she talked much of her +old age.</p> + +<p>She often fainted. One day she even spat blood, +and, as Charles fussed round her showing his anxiety—</p> + +<p>"Bah!" she answered, "what does it matter?"</p> + +<p>Charles fled to his study and wept there, both his +elbows on the table, sitting in an <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chair">armchair</ins> at his +bureau under the phrenological head.</p> + +<p>Then he wrote to his mother to beg her to come, +and they had many long consultations together on the +subject of Emma.</p> + +<p>What should they decide? What was to be done +since she rejected all medical treatment?</p> + +<p>"Do you know what your wife wants?" replied +Madame Bovary, senior. "She wants to be forced to +occupy herself with some manual work. If she were +obliged, like so many others, to earn her living, she +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +wouldn't have these vapors, that come to her from +a lot of ideas she stuffs into her head, and from the +idleness in which she lives."</p> + +<p>"Yet she is always busy," said Charles.</p> + +<p>"Ah! always busy at what? Reading novels, +bad books, works against religion, in which they +mock at priests in speeches taken from Voltaire. +But all that leads you far astray, my poor child. Any +one who has no religion always ends by turning out +badly."</p> + +<p>So they decided to stop Emma from reading novels. +The enterprise did not seem easy. The good lady +undertook it. She was, when she passed through +Rouen, to go herself to the lending-library and represent +that Emma had discontinued her subscription. +Would they not have a right to apply to the police +if the librarian persisted all the same in his poisonous +trade?</p> + +<p>The farewells of mother and daughter-in-law were +cold. During the three weeks that they had been together +they had not exchanged half-a-dozen words +apart from the inquiries and phrases when they met +at table and in the evening before going to bed.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary left on a Wednesday, the market-day +at Yonville.</p> + +<p>The Place since morning had been blocked by a +row of carts, which, on end and their shafts in the +air, spread all along the line of houses from the +church to the inn. On the other side there were +canvas booths, where cotton checks, blankets, and +woollen stockings were sold, together with harness +for horses, and packets of blue ribbon, whose +ends fluttered in the wind. The coarse hardware +was spread out on the ground between pyramids of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +eggs and hampers of cheeses, from which sticky straw +stuck out. Near the corn-machines clucking hens +passed their necks through the bars of flat cages. +The people, crowding in the same place and unwilling +to move thence, sometimes threatened to smash +the shop-front of the chemist. On Wednesdays his +shop was never empty, and the people pushed in +less to buy drugs than for consultations, so great +was Homais's reputation in the neighboring villages. +His robust aplomb had fascinated the rustics. They +considered him a greater doctor than all the doctors.</p> + +<p>Emma was leaning out at the window; she was +often there. The window in the provinces replaces +the theatre and the promenade, and she amused herself +with watching the crowd of boors, when she +saw a gentleman in a green velvet coat. He had on +yellow gloves, although he wore heavy gaiters; he +was coming towards the doctor's house, followed by +a peasant walking with bent head and quite a +thoughtful air.</p> + +<p>"Can I see the doctor?" he asked Justin, who +was talking on the doorsteps with Félicité, and, +taking him for a servant of the house: "Tell him +that Monsieur Rodolphe Boulanger of La Huchette is +here."</p> + +<p>It was not from territorial vanity that the new +arrival added "of La Huchette" to his name, but to +make himself the better known. La Huchette, in +fact, was an estate near Yonville, where he had just +bought the château and two farms that he cultivated +himself, without, however, troubling very much +about them. He lived as a bachelor, and was supposed +to have at least fifteen thousand francs a year.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +Charles came into the room. Monsieur Boulanger +introduced his man, who wanted to be bled because +he felt "a tingling all over."</p> + +<p>"That'll purge me," he urged as an objection to +all reasoning.</p> + +<p>So Bovary ordered a bandage and a basin, and +asked Justin to hold it. Then addressing the countryman, +already pale—</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid, my lad."</p> + +<p>"No, no, sir," said the other; "get on."</p> + +<p>And with an air of bravado he held out his great +arm. At the prick of the lancet the blood spurted +out, splashing against the looking-glass.</p> + +<p>"Hold the basin nearer," exclaimed Charles.</p> + +<p>"Lor!" said the peasant, "one would swear it +was a little fountain flowing. How red my blood is! +That's a good sign isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," answered the doctor, "one feels +nothing at first, and then syncope sets in, and more +especially with people of strong constitution like this +man."</p> + +<p>At these words the rustic let go the lancet-case he +was twisting between his fingers. A shudder of his +shoulders made the chair-back creak. His hat fell off.</p> + +<p>"I thought as much," said Bovary, pressing his +finger on the vein.</p> + +<p>The basin was beginning to tremble in Justin's +hands; his knees shook, he turned pale.</p> + +<p>"Emma! Emma!" called Charles.</p> + +<p>With one bound she came down the staircase.</p> + +<p>"Some vinegar," he cried. "O dear! two at +once!"</p> + +<p>And in his emotion he could hardly put on the +compress.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +"It is nothing," said Monsieur Boulanger quietly, +taking Justin in his arms. He seated him on the +table with his back resting against the wall.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary began taking off his cravat. The +strings of his shirt had got into a knot, and she was +for some minutes moving her light fingers about the +young fellow's neck. Then she poured some vinegar +on her cambric handkerchief; she moistened his temples +with little dabs, and then blew upon them softly. +The ploughman revived, but Justin's syncope still +lasted, and his eyeballs disappeared in their pale +sclerotic like blue flowers in milk.</p> + +<p>"We must hide this from him," said Charles.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary took the basin to put it under the +table. With the movement she made in bending +down, her skirt (it was a summer frock with four +flounces, yellow, long in the waist and wide in the +skirt) spread out around her on the flags of the +room; and as Emma, stooping, staggered a little as +she stretched out her arms, the stuff here and there +gave with the inflections of her bust. Then she +went to fetch a bottle of water, and she was melting +some pieces of sugar when the chemist arrived. The +servant had been to fetch him in the tumult. Seeing +his pupil with his eyes open he drew a long breath; +then going round him he looked at him from head +to foot.</p> + +<p>"Fool!" he said, "really a little fool! A fool in +four letters! A phlebotomy's a big affair, isn't it! +And a fellow who isn't afraid of anything; a kind of +squirrel, just as he is who climbs to vertiginous +heights to shake down nuts. Oh, yes! you just talk +to me, boast about yourself! Here's a fine fitness for +practising pharmacy later on; for under serious circumstances +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +you may be called before the tribunals in +order to enlighten the minds of the magistrates, and +you would have to keep your head then, to reason, +show yourself a man, or else pass for an imbecile."</p> + +<p>Justin did not answer. The chemist went on—</p> + +<p>"Who asked you to come? You are always pestering +the doctor and madame. On Wednesday, +moreover, your presence is indispensable to me. +There are now twenty people in the shop. I left +everything because of the interest I take in you. +Come, get along! Sharp! Wait for me, and keep +an eye on the jars."</p> + +<p>When Justin, who was rearranging his dress, had +gone, they talked for a little while about fainting-fits. +Madame Bovary said she had never fainted.</p> + +<p>"That is extraordinary for a lady," said Monsieur +Boulanger; "but some people are very susceptible. +Thus, in a duel, I have seen a second lose consciousness +at the mere sound of the loading of pistols."</p> + +<p>"For my part," said the chemist, "the sight of +other people's blood doesn't affect me at all, but the +mere thought of my own flowing would make me +faint, if I reflected upon it too much."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Boulanger, however, dismissed his servant, +advising him to calm himself, since his fancy +was over.</p> + +<p>"It procured me the advantage of making your +acquaintance," he added, and he looked at Emma as +he said this. Then he put three francs on the corner +of the table, bowed negligently, and went out.</p> + +<p>He was soon on the other side of the river (this +was his way back to La Huchette), and Emma saw +him in the meadow, walking under the poplars, slackening +his pace now and then as one who reflects.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +"She is very pretty," he said to himself; "she is +very pretty, this doctor's wife. Fine teeth, black eyes, +a dainty foot, a figure like a Parisienne's. Where +the devil does she come from? Wherever did this +fat fellow pick her up?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Rodolphe Boulanger was thirty-four; he +was of brutal temperament and intelligent perspicacity, +having, moreover, had much to do with women, +and knowing them well. This one had seemed pretty +to him; so he was thinking about her and her husband.</p> + +<p>"I think he is very stupid. She is tired of him, +no doubt. He has dirty nails, and hasn't shaved for +three days. While he is trotting after his patients, +she sits there botching socks. And she gets bored! +She would like to live in town and dance polkas +every evening. Poor little woman! She is gaping +after love like a carp after water on a kitchen-table. +With three words of gallantry she'd adore one, I'm +sure of it. She'd be tender, charming! Yes; but +how get rid of her afterwards?"</p> + +<p>Then the difficulties of love-making seen in the +distance made him by contrast think of his mistress. +She was an actress at Rouen, whom he kept; and +when he had pondered over this image, with which, +even in remembrance, he was satiated—</p> + +<p>"Ah! Madame Bovary," he thought, "is much +prettier, especially fresher. Virginie is decidedly beginning +to grow fat. She is so finikin with her +pleasures; and, besides, she has a mania for prawns."</p> + +<p>The fields were empty, and around him Rodolphe +heard only the regular beating of the grass striking +against his boots, with the cry of the grasshopper hidden +at a distance among the oats. He again saw +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +Emma in her room, dressed as he had seen her, and +he undressed her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will have her," he cried, striking a blow +with his stick at a clod in front of him. And he at +once began to consider the political part of the enterprise. +He asked himself—</p> + +<p>"Where shall we meet? By what means? We +shall always be having the brat on our hands, and +the servant, the neighbors, the husband, all sorts of +worries. Pshaw! one would lose too much time +over it."</p> + +<p>Then he resumed, "She really has eyes that pierce +one's heart like a gimlet. And that pale complexion; +I adore pale women!"</p> + +<p>When he reached the top of the Argueil hills he +had made up his mind. "It's only finding the opportunities. +Well, I will call in now and then. I'll +send them venison, poultry; I'll have myself bled, if +need be. We shall become friends; I'll invite them +to my place. By Jove!" added he, "there's the agricultural +show coming on. She'll be there. I shall +see her. We'll begin boldly, for that's the surest +way."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 109px;"> +<img src="images/i193.jpg" width="109" height="55" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<h4><a name="A_Village_Festival" id="A_Village_Festival"></a><span class="smcap">A Village Festival.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap194"><span class="dropcap">A</span></span><br />T LAST it came, the famous agricultural +show. On the morning of +the solemnity all the inhabitants at +their doors were chatting over +the preparations. The pediment +of the townhall had been hung with +garlands of ivy; a tent had been erected in a meadow +for the banquet; and in the middle of the Place, in +front of the church, a kind of bombarde was to announce +the arrival of the prefect and the names of the +successful farmers who had obtained prizes. The National +Guard of Buchy (there was none at Yonville) +had come to join the corps of firemen, of whom +Binet was captain. On that day he wore a collar +even higher than usual; and, tightly buttoned in his +tunic, his figure was so stiff and motionless that the +whole vital portion of his person seemed to have descended +into his legs; which rose in a cadence of set +steps with a single movement. As there was some +rivalry between the tax-collector and the colonel, +both, to show off their talents, drilled their men separately. +One saw the red epaulettes and the black +breastplates pass and repass alternately; there was no +end to it, and it continually began again. There had +never been such a display of pomp. Several citizens +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +had washed down their houses the evening before; +tricolored flags hung from half-open windows; all the +public-houses were full; and in the lovely weather +the starched caps, the golden crosses, and the colored +neckerchiefs seemed whiter than snow, shone in the +sun, and relieved with their motley colors the somber +monotony of the frock-coats and blue smocks. The +neighboring farmers' wives, when they got off their +horses, pulled out a long pin that fastened round them +their skirts, turned up for fear of mud; the husbands, +on the contrary, in order to save their hats, +kept their handkerchiefs round them, holding one +corner between their teeth.</p> + +<p>The crowd came into the main street from both +ends of the village. People poured in from the lanes, +the alleys, the houses; and from time to time one +heard knockers banging against doors closing behind +women with their gloves, who were going out to see +the fête. What was most admired were two long +lamp-stands covered with lanterns, that flanked a +platform on which the authorities were to sit. Besides +this there were against the four columns of the +<ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: town-hall">townhall</ins> four kinds of poles, each bearing a small +standard of greenish cloth, embellished with inscriptions +in gold letters. On one was written, "To +Commerce;" on the other, "To Agriculture;" on the +third, "To Industry;" and on the fourth, "To the +Fine Arts."</p> + +<p>But the jubilation that brightened all faces seemed +to darken that of Madame Lefrançois, the innkeeper. +Standing on her kitchen-steps she muttered to herself, +"What rubbish! what rubbish! With their canvas +booth! Do they think the prefect will be glad to +dine down there under a tent like a gipsy? They +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +call all this fussing doing good to the place! Then +it wasn't worth while sending to Neufchâtel for the +keeper of a cookshop! And for whom? For cowherds! +tatterdemalions!"</p> + +<p>The chemist was passing. He had on a frock-coat, +nankeen trousers, beaver shoes, and, for a wonder, +a hat with a low crown.</p> + +<p>"Your servant! Excuse me, I am in a hurry." +And as the fat widow asked where he was going—</p> + +<p>"It seems odd to you, doesn't it, to see me, who +am always more cooped up in my laboratory than the +man's rat in his cheese, taking a holiday?"</p> + +<p>"What cheese?" asked the landlady.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing! nothing!" Homais continued. "I +merely wished to convey to you, Madame Lefrançois, +that I usually live at home like a recluse. To-day, +however, considering the circumstances, it is necessary—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're going down there!" she said contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am going," replied the chemist, astonished. +"Am I not a member of the consulting commission?"</p> + +<p>Mère Lefrançois looked at him for a few moments, +and ended by saying with a smile:</p> + +<p>"That's another pair of shoes! But what does +agriculture matter to you? Do you understand anything +about it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I understand it, since I am a druggist,—that +is to say, a chemist. And the object of chemistry, +Madame Lefrançois, being the knowledge of +the reciprocal and molecular action of all natural +bodies, it follows that agriculture is comprised within +its domain. And, in fact, the composition of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +manure, the fermentation of liquids, the analyses of +gases, and the influence of miasmata, what, I ask +you, is all this, if it isn't chemistry, pure and simple?"</p> + +<p>The landlady did not answer. Homais went on:</p> + +<p>"Do you think that to be an agriculturist it is +necessary to have tilled the earth or fattened fowls +oneself? It is necessary rather to know the composition +of the substances in question—the geological +strata, the atmospheric actions, the quality of the +soil, the minerals, the waters, the density of the different +bodies, their capillarity, and what not. And +one must be master of all the principles of hygiene +in order to direct, criticise the construction of buildings, +the feeding of animals, the diet of the domestics. +And, moreover, Madame Lefrançois, one must +know botany, be able to distinguish between plants, +you understand, which are the wholesome and those +that are deleterious, which are unproductive and +which nutritive, if it is well to pull them up here +and re-sow them there, to propagate some, destroy +others; in brief, one must keep pace with science by +means of pamphlets and public papers, be always on +the alert to find out improvements."</p> + +<p>The landlady never took her eyes off the "Café +Français," and the chemist went on:</p> + +<p>"Would to God our agriculturists were chemists, +or that at least they would pay more attention to the +counsels of science. Thus, lately I myself wrote a +considerable tract, a memoir of more than seventy-two +pages, entitled, 'Cider, its Manufacture and its Effects, +together with some New Reflections on this Subject,' +that I sent to the Agricultural Society of Rouen, +and which even procured me the honor of being received +among its members—Section, Agriculture; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +Class, Pomological. Well, if my work had been +given to the public—" But the druggist stopped, +Madame Lefrançois seemed so preoccupied.</p> + +<p>"Just look at them!" she said. "It's past comprehension! +Such a cookshop as that!" And with +a shrug of the shoulders that stretched out over her +breast the stitches of her knitted bodice, she pointed +with both hands at her rival's inn, whence songs +were heard issuing. "Well, it won't last long," she +added; "it'll be over before a week."</p> + +<p>Homais drew back with stupefaction. She came +down three steps and whispered in his ear:</p> + +<p>"What! you didn't know it? There'll be an execution +in next week. It's Lheureux who is selling +him up; he has killed him with bills."</p> + +<p>"What a terrible catastrophe!" cried the chemist, +who always found expressions in harmony with all +imaginable circumstances.</p> + +<p>Then the landlady began telling him this story, +that she had heard from <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: the original reads "Theodore" without an accent">Théodore</ins>, Monsieur Guillaumin's +servant, and although she detested Telher, she +blamed Lheureux. He was "a wheedler, a sneak."</p> + +<p>"There!" she said. "Look at him! he is in the +market; he is bowing to Madame Bovary, who's got +on a green bonnet. Why, she's taking Monsieur Boulanger's +arm."</p> + +<p>"Madame Bovary!" exclaimed Homais. "I must +go at once and pay her my respects. Perhaps she'd +be very glad to have a seat in the enclosure under +the peristyle." And, without heeding Madame Lefrançois, +who was calling him back to tell him more +about it, the druggist walked off rapidly with a smile +on his lips, with straight knees, bowing exuberantly +right and left, and taking up much room with the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +large tails of his frock-coat that fluttered behind him +in the wind.</p> + +<p>Rodolphe, having caught sight of him from afar, +hurried on, but Madame Bovary lost her breath; so +he walked more slowly, and, smiling at her, said in +a rough tone:</p> + +<p>"It's only to get away from that fat fellow, you +know, the druggist." She pressed his elbow.</p> + +<p>"What's the meaning of that?" he asked himself. +And he looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.</p> + +<p>Her profile was so calm that one could guess +nothing from it. It stood out in the light from the +oval of her bonnet, with pale ribbons on it like the +leaves of reeds. Her eyes with their long curved +lashes looked straight before her, and though wide +open, they seemed slightly puckered by the cheekbones, +because of the blood pulsing gently under the +delicate skin. A pink line ran along the partition +between her nostrils. Her head leaned towards her +shoulder, and the pearly tips of her white teeth were +seen between her lips.</p> + +<p>"Is she making fun of me?" thought Rodolphe.</p> + +<p>Emma's gesture, however, had only been meant +for a warning; for Monsieur Lheureux was accompanying +them, and spoke now and again as if to enter +into the conversation.</p> + +<p>"What a superb day! Everybody is out! The +wind is east!"</p> + +<p>And neither Madame Bovary nor Rodolphe answered +him, while at the slightest movement made +by them he drew near, saying, "I beg your pardon!" +and raised his hat.</p> + +<p>When they reached the farrier's house, instead of +following the road up to the fence, Rodolphe suddenly +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +turned down a path, drawing with him Madame Bovary. +He called out:</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Monsieur Lheureux! See you +again presently."</p> + +<p>"How you got rid of him!" she said, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Why," he went on, "allow oneself to be intruded +upon by others? And as to-day I have the +happiness of being with you——"</p> + +<p>Emma blushed. He did not finish his sentence. +Then he talked of the fine weather and of the pleasure +of walking on the grass. A few daisies had +sprung up again.</p> + +<p>"Here are some pretty Easter daisies," he said, +"and enough of them to furnish oracles to all the +amorous maids in the place." He added, "Shall I +pick some? What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Are you in love?" she asked, coughing a little.</p> + +<p>"H'm, h'm! who knows?" answered Rodolphe.</p> + +<p>The meadow began to fill, and the housewives, +hustled one with their great umbrellas, their baskets, +and their babies. One had often to get out of the +way of a long file of country folk, servant-maids with +blue stockings, flat shoes, and silver rings, who +smelled of milk when one passed close to them. They +walked along holding one another by the hand, and +thus they spread over the whole field from the row +of open trees to the banquet tent. But this was the +examination time, and the farmers one after the other +entered a kind of enclosure formed by a long cord +supported on sticks.</p> + +<p>The beasts were there, their noses toward the cord, +and making a confused line with their unequal rumps. +Drowsy pigs were burrowing in the earth with their +snouts, calves were bleating, lambs baaing; the cows, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +on knees folded in, were stretching their bellies on +the grass, slowly chewing the cud, and blinking their +heavy eyelids at the gnats that buzzed round them. +Ploughmen with bare arms were holding by the +halter prancing stallions that neighed with dilated nostrils, +looking toward the mares. These stood quietly, +stretching out their heads and flowing manes, while +their foals rested in their shadow, or now and then +came and sucked them. And above the long undulation +of these crowded animals one saw some white +mane rising in the wind like a wave, or some sharp +horns sticking out, and the heads of men running +about. Apart, outside the enclosure, a hundred paces +off, was a large black bull, muzzled, with an iron +ring in its nostrils, who moved no more than if he +had been in bronze. A child in rags was holding him +by a rope.</p> + +<p>Between the two lines the committee-men were +walking with heavy steps, examining each animal, +then consulting one another in a low voice. One +who seemed of more importance now and then took +notes in a book as he walked along. This was the +president of the jury, Monsieur Derozerays de la Panville. +As soon as he recognized Rodolphe he came +forward quickly, and smiling amiably, said:</p> + +<p>"What! Monsieur Boulanger, you are deserting +us?"</p> + +<p>Rodolphe protested that he was just coming. But +when the president had disappeared:</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi!</i>" said he, "I shall not go. Your company +is better than his."</p> + +<p>And while poking fun at the show, Rodolphe, to +move about more easily, showed the gendarme his +blue card, and even stopped now and then in front of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +some fine beast which Madame Bovary did not at all +admire. He noticed this and began jeering at the +Yonville ladies and their dresses; then he apologized +for the negligence of his own. He had that incongruity +of common and elegant in which the habitually +vulgar think they see the revelation of an eccentric +existence, of the perturbations of sentiment, the tyrannies +of art, and always a certain contempt for social +conventions, that seduces or exasperates them. Thus +his cambric shirt with plaited cuffs was blown out by +the wind in the opening of his waistcoat of gray +ticking, and his broad-striped trousers disclosed at the +ankle nankeen boots with patent leather gaiters. +These were so polished that they reflected the grass. +He trampled on horses' dung with them, one hand in +the pocket of his jacket and his straw hat on one side.</p> + +<p>"Besides," added he, "when one lives in the +country——"</p> + +<p>"It's waste of time," said Emma.</p> + +<p>"That is true," replied Rodolphe. "To think that +not one of these people is capable of understanding +even the cut of a coat!"</p> + +<p>Then they talked about provincial mediocrity, of +the lives it crushed, the illusions lost there.</p> + +<p>"And I too," said Rodolphe, "am drifting into depression."</p> + +<p>"You!" she said in astonishment; "I thought you +very light-hearted."</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes. I seem so, because in the midst of the +world I know how to wear the mask of a scoffer +upon my face; and yet, how many a time at the sight +of a cemetery by moonlight have I not asked myself +whether it were not better to join those sleeping +there!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +"Oh! and your friends?" she said. "You do not +think of them."</p> + +<p>"My friends! What friends? Have I any? Who +cares for me?" And he accompanied the last words +with a kind of whistling of the lips.</p> + +<p>But they were obliged to separate from each other +because of a great pile of chairs that a man was carrying +behind them. He was so overladen with them +that one could only see the tips of his wooden shoes +and the ends of his two outstretched arms. It was +Lestiboudois, the gravedigger, who was carrying the +church chairs about among the people. Alive to all +that concerned his interests, he had hit upon this +means of turning the show to account; and his idea +was succeeding, for he no longer knew which way to +turn. In fact, the villagers, who were hot, quarreled +for these seats, whose straw smelled of incense, and +they lent against the thick backs, stained with the +wax of candles, with a certain veneration.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary again took Rodolphe's arm; he +went on as if speaking to himself:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have missed so many things. Always +alone! Ah! if I had some aim in life, if I had met +some love, if I had found some one! Oh, how I +would have spent all the energy of which I am capable, +surmounted everything, overcome everything!"</p> + +<p>"Yet it seems to me," said Emma, "that you are +not to be pitied."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you think so?" said Rodolphe.</p> + +<p>"For, after all," she went on, "you are free——" +she hesitated, "rich——"</p> + +<p>"Do not mock me," he replied.</p> + +<p>And she protested that she was not mocking him, +when the report of a cannon resounded. Immediately +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +all began hustling one another pell-mell toward the +village.</p> + +<p>It was a false alarm. The prefect seemed not to +be coming, and the members of the jury felt +much embarrassed, not knowing if they ought to begin +the meeting or still wait.</p> + +<p>At last at the end of the Place a large hired landau +appeared, drawn by two thin horses, whom a coachman +in a white hat was whipping lustily. Binet had +only just time to shout, "Present arms!" and the +colonel to imitate him. All ran toward the enclosure; +every one pushed forward. A few even forgot their +collars; but the equipage of the prefect seemed to anticipate +the crowd, and the two yoked jades, trapesing +in their harness, came up at a little trot in front of +the peristyle of the town hall at the very moment +when the National Guard and firemen deployed, beating +drums and marking time.</p> + +<p>"Present!" shouted Binet.</p> + +<p>"Halt!" shouted the colonel. "Left about, march."</p> + +<p>And after presenting arms, during which the clang +of the band, letting loose, rang out like a brass kettle +rolling downstairs, all the guns were lowered. Then +were seen stepping down from the carriage a gentleman +in a short coat with silver braiding, with bald +brow, and wearing a tuft of hair at the back of his +head, of a sallow complexion and the most benign +appearance. His eyes, very large and covered by +heavy lids, were half-closed to look at the crowd, +while at the same time he raised his sharp nose, and +forced a smile upon his sunken mouth. He recognized +the mayor by his scarf, and explained to him +that the prefect was not able to come. He himself +was a councilor at the prefecture; then he added a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +few apologies. Monsieur Tuvache answered them +with compliments; the other confessed himself nervous; +and they remained thus, face to face, their +foreheads almost touching, with the members of the +jury all round, the municipal council, the notable personages, +the National Guard and the crowd. The +councilor pressing his little cocked hat to his breast +repeated his bows, while Tuvache, bent like a bow, +also smiled, stammered, tried to say something, protested +his devotion to the monarchy and the honor +that was being done to Yonville.</p> + +<p>Hippolyte, the groom from the inn, took the head +of the horses from the coachman, and, limping along +with his club-foot, led them to the door of the "Lion +d'Or," where a number of peasants collected to look +at the carriage. The drum beat, the howitzer thundered, +and the gentlemen one by one mounted the +platform, where they sat down in red utrecht velvet +armchairs that had been lent by Madame Tuvache.</p> + +<p>All these people looked alike. Their fair flabby +faces, somewhat tanned by the sun, were the color of +sweet cider, and their puffy whiskers emerged from +stiff collars, kept up by white cravats with broad +bows. All the waistcoats were of velvet, double-breasted; +all the watches had, at the end of a long +ribbon, an oval cornelian seal; every one rested his two +hands on his thighs, carefully stretching the stride of +his trousers, whose unsponged glossy cloth shone +more brilliantly than the leather of his heavy boots.</p> + +<p>The ladies of the company stood at the back under +the vestibule between the pillars, while the common +herd was opposite, standing up or sitting on +chairs. As a matter of fact, Lestiboudois had brought +thither all those that he had moved from the field, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +and he even kept running back every minute to fetch +others from the church. He caused such confusion +with this piece of business that one had great difficulty +in getting to the small steps of the platform.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Monsieur Lheureux to the chemist, +who was passing to his place, "that they ought to +have put up two Venetian masts with something +rather severe and rich for ornaments; it would have +been a very pretty effect."</p> + +<p>"To be sure," replied Homais; "but what can you +expect? The mayor took everything on his own +shoulders. He hasn't much taste. Poor Tuvache! +and he is even completely destitute of what is called +the genius of art."</p> + +<p>Rodolphe, meanwhile, with Madame Bovary, had +gone up to the first floor of the townhall, to the +"council-room," and as it was empty, he declared +that they could enjoy the sight there more comfortably. +He fetched three stools from the round table under the +bust of the monarch, and having carried them to one +of the windows, they sat down by each other.</p> + +<p>There was commotion on the platform, long whisperings, +much parleying. At last the councilor got up. +They knew now that his name was Lieuvain, and in +the crowd the name was passed from one to the +other. After he had collated a few pages, and bent +over them to see better, he began:</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen! May I be permitted first of all (before +addressing you on the object of our meeting +to-day, and this sentiment, will, I am sure, be shared +by you all), may I be permitted, I say, to pay a +tribute to the higher administration, to the government, +to the monarch, gentlemen, our sovereign, to +that beloved king, to whom no branch of public or +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +private prosperity is a matter of indifference, and who +directs with a hand at once so firm and wise the +chariot of the state amid the incessant perils of a +stormy sea, knowing, moreover, how to make peace +respected as well as war, industry, commerce, agriculture, +and the fine arts."</p> + +<p>"I ought," said Rodolphe, "to get back a little +further."</p> + +<p>"Why?" said Emma.</p> + +<p>But at this moment the voice of the councilor rose +to an extraordinary pitch. He declaimed:</p> + +<p>"This is no longer the time, gentlemen, when +civil discord ensanguined our public places, when the +landlord, the business-man, the working-man himself, +falling asleep at night, lying down to peaceful sleep, +trembled lest he should be awakened suddenly by the +noise of incendiary tocsins, when the most subversive +doctrines audaciously sapped foundations."</p> + +<p>"Well, some one down there might see me," +Rodolphe resumed, "then I should have to invent +excuses for a fortnight; and with my bad reputation——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are slandering yourself," said Emma.</p> + +<p>"No! It is dreadful, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"But, gentlemen," continued the councilor, "if, +banishing from my memory the remembrance of these +sad pictures, I carry my eyes back to the actual situation +of our dear country, what do I see there? +Everywhere commerce and the arts are flourishing; +everywhere new means of communication, like so +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +many new arteries in the body of the state, establish +within it new relations. Our great industrial centers +have recovered all their activity; religion, more consolidated, +smiles in all hearts; our ports are full, confidence +is born again, and France breathes once +more!"</p> + +<p>"Besides," added Rodolphe, "perhaps from the +world's point of view they are right."</p> + +<p>"How so?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"What!" said he. "Do you not know that there +are souls constantly tormented? They need by turns +to dream and to act, the purest passions and the most +turbulent joys, and thus they fling themselves into all +sorts of fantasies, of follies."</p> + +<p>Then she looked at him as one looks at a traveler +who has voyaged over strange lands, and went on:</p> + +<p>"We have not even this distraction, we poor +women!"</p> + +<p>"A sad distraction, for happiness isn't found in it."</p> + +<p>"But is it ever found?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes; one day it comes," he answered.</p> + +<p>"And this is what you have understood," said the +councilor. "You farmers, agricultural laborers! you +pacific pioneers of a work that belongs wholly to +civilization! you men of progress and morality, you +have understood, I say, that political storms are even +more redoubtable than atmospheric disturbances!"</p> + +<p>"It comes one day," repeated Rodolphe, "one day +suddenly, and when one is despairing of it. Then +the horizon expands; it is as if a voice cried, 'It is +here!' You feel the need of confiding the whole of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +your life, of giving everything, sacrificing everything +to this being. There is no need for explanations; +they understand one another. They have seen each +other in dreams!" He looked at her. "In fine, here +it is, this treasure so sought after, here before you. +It glitters, it flashes; yet one still doubts, one does +not believe it; one remains dazzled, as if one went +out from darkness into light!"</p> + +<p>And as he ended Rodolphe suited the action to +the word. He passed his hand over his face, like a +man seized with giddiness. Then he let it fall on +Emma's. She took hers away.</p> + +<p>"And who would be surprised at it, gentlemen? +He only who was so blind, so plunged (I do not fear +to say it), so plunged in the prejudices of another +age as still to misunderstand the spirit of agricultural +populations. Where, indeed, is to be found more +patriotism than in the country, greater devotion to the +public welfare, more intelligence, in a word? And, +gentlemen, I do not mean that superficial intelligence, +vain ornament of idle minds, but rather that profound +and balanced intelligence that applies itself above all +else to useful objects, thus contributing to the good +of all, to the common amelioration and to the support +of the state, born of respect for law and the practice of +duty——"</p> + +<p>"Ah! again!" said Rodolphe. "Always 'duty.' I +am sick of the word. They are a lot of old blockheads +in flannel vests and of old women with foot-warmers +and rosaries who constantly drone into our +ears 'Duty, duty!' Ah! by Jove! one's duty is to +feel what is great, cherish the beautiful, and not accept +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +all the conventions of society with the ignominy +that it imposes upon us."</p> + +<p>"Yet—yet——" objected Madame Bovary.</p> + +<p>"No, no! Why cry out against the passions? Are +they not the one beautiful thing on the earth, the +source of heroism, of enthusiasm, of poetry, music, +the arts, of everything, in a word?"</p> + +<p>"But one must," said Emma, "to some extent bow +to the opinion of the world and accept its moral code."</p> + +<p>"Ah! but there are two," he replied. "The small, +the conventional, that of men, that which constantly +changes, that brays out so loudly, that makes such a +commotion here below, of the earth earthy, like the +mass of imbeciles you see down there. But the other, +the eternal, that is about us and above, like the landscape +that surrounds us, and the blue heavens that +give us light."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Lieuvain had just wiped his mouth with +a pocket-handkerchief. He continued:</p> + +<p>"And what should I do here, gentlemen, pointing +out to you the uses of agriculture? Who supplies our +wants? Who provides our means of subsistence? Is +it not the agriculturist? The agriculturist, gentlemen, +who, sowing with laborious hand the fertile furrows +of the country, brings forth the corn, which, being +ground, is made into a powder by means of ingenious +machinery, comes out thence under the name of flour, +and from there, transported to our cities, is soon delivered +at the baker's, who makes it into food for +poor and rich alike. Again, is it not the agriculturist +who fattens, for our clothes, his abundant flocks in +the pastures? For how should we clothe ourselves, +how nourish ourselves, without the agriculturist? And, +gentlemen, is it even necessary to go so far for examples? +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +Who has not frequently reflected on all the +momentous things that we get out of that modest +animal, the ornament of poultry-yards, that provides +us at once with a soft pillow for our bed, with succulent +flesh for our tables, and eggs? But I should +never end if I were to enumerate one after the other +all the different products which the earth, well cultivated, +like a generous mother, lavishes upon her +children. Here it is the vine, elsewhere the apple-tree +for cider, there colza, farther on cheeses and flax. +Gentlemen, let us not forget flax, which has made +such great strides of late years, and to which I will +more particularly call your attention."</p> + +<p>He had no need to call it, for all the mouths of +the multitude were wide open, as if to drink in his +words. Tuvache by his side listened to him with +starting eyes. Monsieur Derozerays from time to time +softly closed his eyelids, and farther on the chemist, +with his son Napoléon between his knees, put his hand +behind his ear in order not to lose a syllable. The +chins of the other members of the jury went slowly +up and down in their waistcoats in sign of approval. +The firemen at the foot of the platform rested on their +bayonets; and Binet, motionless, stood with out-turned +elbows, the point of his sabre in the air. Perhaps he +could hear, but certainly he could see nothing, because +of the visor of his helmet, that fell down on his nose. +His lieutenant, the youngest son of Monsieur Tuvache, +had a bigger one, for his was enormous, and shook +on his head, and from it an end of his cotton scarf +peeped out. He smiled beneath it with a perfectly +infantine sweetness, and his pale little face, whence +drops were running, wore an expression of enjoyment +and sleepiness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +The square as far as the houses was crowded with +people. One saw folk leaning on their elbows at all +the windows, others standing at doors, and Justin, in +front of the chemist's shop, seemed quite transfixed by +the sight of what he was looking at. In spite of the +silence Monsieur Lieuvain's voice was lost in the air. +It reached you in fragments of phrases, and interrupted +here and there by the creaking of chairs in the +crowd; then you suddenly heard the long bellowing +of an ox, or else the bleating of the lambs, who +answered one another at street corners. In fact, the +cowherds and shepherds had driven their beasts thus +far, and these lowed from time to time, while with +their tongues they tore down some scrap of foliage +that hung above their mouths.</p> + +<p>Rodolphe had drawn nearer to Emma, and said to +her <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'it'">in</ins> a low voice, speaking rapidly:</p> + +<p>"Does not this conspiracy of the world revolt you? +Is there a single sentiment it does not condemn? +The noblest instincts, the purest sympathies are persecuted, +slandered; and if at length two poor souls +do meet, all is so organized that they cannot blend +together. Yet they will make the attempt; they will +flutter their wings; they will call upon each other. +Oh! no matter. Sooner or later, in six months, ten +years, they will come together, will love; for fate +has decreed it, and they are born one for the other."</p> + +<p>His arms were folded across his knees, and thus +lifting his face toward Emma, close by her, he looked +fixedly at her. She noticed in his eyes small golden +lines radiating from black pupils; she even smelled the +perfume of the pomade that made his hair glossy. +Then a faintness came over her; she recalled the +Viscount who had waltzed with her at Vaubyessard, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +and his beard exhaled like this hair an odor of vanilla +and citron, and mechanically she half-closed her eyes +the better to breathe it in. But in making this movement, +as she leaned back in her chair, she saw in the +distance, right on the line of the horizon, the old +diligence the "Hirondelle," that was slowly <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'decending'">descending</ins> +the hill of Leux, dragging after it a long trail of dust. +It was in this yellow carriage that Léon had so often +come back to her, and by this route down there +that he had gone for ever. She fancied she saw him +opposite at his window; then all grew confused; +clouds gathered; it seemed to her that she was again +turning in the waltz under the light of the lusters on +the arm of the Viscount, and that Léon was not far +away, that he was coming; and yet all the time she +was conscious of the scent of Rodolphe's head by her +side. This sweetness of sensation pierced through +her old desires, and these, like grains of sand under +a gust of wind, eddied to and fro in the subtle breath +of the perfume which suffused her soul. She opened +wide her nostrils several times to drink in the freshness +of the ivy round the capitals. She took off her +gloves, she wiped her hands, then fanned her face +with her handkerchief, while athwart the throbbing +of her temples she heard the murmur of the crowd +and the voice of the councilor intoning his phrases. +He said:</p> + +<p>"Continue, persevere; listen neither to the suggestions +of routine, nor to the over-hasty councils of a +rash empiricism. Apply yourselves, above all, to the +amelioration of the soil, to good manures, to the +development of the equine, bovine, ovine, and porcine +races. Let these shows be to you pacific arenas, +where the victor in leaving it will hold forth a hand +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +to the vanquished, and will fraternize with him in +the hope of better success. And you, aged servants, +humble domestics, whose hard labor no Government +up to this day has taken into consideration, come +hither to receive the reward of your silent virtues, +and be assured that the state henceforward has its +eye upon you; that it encourages you, protects you; +that it will accede to your just demands, and alleviate +as much as in it lies the burden of your painful sacrifices."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Lieuvain then sat down; Monsieur Derozerays +got up, beginning another speech. His was +not perhaps so florid as that of the councilor, but it +recommended itself by a more direct style, that is to +say, by more special knowledge and more elevated +considerations. Thus the praise of the Government +took up less space in it; religion and agriculture more. +He showed in it the relations of these two, and how +they had always contributed to civilization. Rodolphe +with Madame Bovary was talking dreams, presentiments, +magnetism. Going back to the cradle of society, +the orator painted those fierce times when men lived on +acorns in the heart of woods. Then they had left off +the skins of beasts, had put on cloth, tilled the soil, +planted the vine. Was this a good, and in this discovery +was there not more of injury than of gain? +Monsieur Derozerays set himself this problem. From +magnetism little by little Rodolphe had come to affinities, +and while the president was citing Cincinnatus +and his plough, Diocletian planting his cabbages, and +the emperors of China inaugurating the year by the +sowing of seed, the young man was explaining to +the young woman that these irresistible attractions +find their cause in some previous state of existence.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +"Thus we," he said, "why did we come to know +one another? What chance willed it? It was because +across the infinite, like two streams that flow but +to unite, our special bents of mind had driven us +toward each other."</p> + +<p>And he seized her hand; she did not withdraw it.</p> + +<p>"For good farming generally!" cried the president.</p> + +<p>"Just now, for example, when I went to your +house."</p> + +<p>"To Monsieur Bizat of Quincampoix."</p> + +<p>"Did I know I should accompany you?"</p> + +<p>"Seventy francs."</p> + +<p>"A hundred times I wished to go; and I followed +you—I remained."</p> + +<p>"Manures!"</p> + +<p>"And I shall remain to-night, to-morrow, all other +days, all my life!"</p> + +<p>"To Monsieur Caron of Argueil, a gold medal!"</p> + +<p>"For I have never in the society of any other +person found so complete a charm."</p> + +<p>"To Monsieur Bain of Givry-Saint-Martin."</p> + +<p>"And I shall carry away with me the remembrance +of you."</p> + +<p>"For a merino ram!"</p> + +<p>"But you will forget me; I shall pass away like +a shadow."</p> + +<p>"To Monsieur Belot of <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: original reads Notre-Dame without an accent">Nôtre-Dame</ins>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! I shall be something in your thought, +in your life, shall I not?"</p> + +<p>"Porcine race; prizes—equal, to Messrs. Lehérissé +and Cullembourg, sixty francs!"</p> + +<p>Rodolphe was pressing her hand, and he felt it all +warm and quivering like a captive dove that tries +to fly away; but, whether she was trying to take it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +away or whether she was answering his pressure, she +made a movement with her fingers. He exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"Oh, I thank you! You do not repulse me! +You are good! You understand that I am yours! +Let me look at you; let me contemplate you!"</p> + +<p>A gust of wind that blew in at the window ruffled +the cloth on the table, and in the square below all +the great caps of the peasant women were uplifted +by it like the wings of white butterflies fluttering.</p> + +<p>"Use of oil-cakes," continued the president. He +was hurrying on: "Flemish manure—flax-growing—drainage—long +leases—domestic service."</p> + +<p>Rodolphe was no longer speaking. They looked +at one another. A supreme desire made their dry +lips tremble, and softly, without an effort, their fingers +intertwined.</p> + +<p>"Catherine Nicaise Elizabeth Leroux, of Sassetot-la-Guerrière, +for fifty-four years of service at the same +farm, a silver medal—value, twenty-five francs!"</p> + +<p>"Where is Catherine Leroux?" repeated the councilor.</p> + +<p>She did not present herself, and one could hear +voices whispering:</p> + +<p>"Go up!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, how stupid she is!"</p> + +<p>"Well, is she there?" cried Tuvache.</p> + +<p>"Yes; here she is."</p> + +<p>"Then let her come up!"</p> + +<p>Then there came forward on the platform a little +old woman with timid bearing, who seemed to +shrink within her poor clothes. On her feet she wore +heavy wooden clogs, and from her hips hung a large +blue apron. Her pale face framed in a borderless cap +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +was more wrinkled than a withered russet apple, and +from the sleeves of her red jacket hung down two +large hands with knotty joints. The dust of +barns, the potash of washings, and the grease of +wools had so incrusted, roughened, hardened these, +that they seemed dirty, although they had been rinsed +in clear water; and by dint of long service they remained +half open, as if to bear humble witness for +themselves of so much suffering endured. Something +of monastic rigidity dignified her face. Nothing of +sadness or of emotion weakened that pale look. In +her constant living with animals she had caught their +dumbness and their calm. It was the first time that +she found herself in the midst of so large a company, +and inwardly scared by the flags, the drums, the gentlemen +in frock-coats, and the order of the councilor, +she stood motionless, not knowing whether to advance +or run away, nor why the crowd was pushing +her and the jury were smiling at her. Thus stood +before these radiant bourgeois this half-century of +servitude.</p> + +<p>"Approach, venerable Catherine Nicaise Elizabeth +Leroux!" said the councilor, who had taken the list +of prize-winners from the president; and, looking at +the piece of paper and the old woman by turns, he +repeated in a fatherly tone:</p> + +<p>"Approach! approach!"</p> + +<p>"Are you deaf?" said Tuvache, fidgeting in his +armchair; and he began shouting in her ear, "Fifty-four +years of service. A silver medal! Twenty-five +francs! For you!"</p> + +<p>Then, when she had her medal, she looked at it, +and a smile of beatitude spread over her face; and as +she walked away they could hear her muttering:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +"I'll give it to our curé up home, to say some +masses for me!"</p> + +<p>"What fanaticism!" exclaimed the chemist, leaning +across to the notary.</p> + +<p>The meeting was over, the crowd dispersed, and +now that the speeches had been read, each one fell +back into his place again, and everything into the old +grooves; the masters bullied the servants, and these +struck the animals, indolent victors, going back to the +stalls, a green crown on their horns.</p> + +<p>The National Guards, however, had gone up to +the first floor of the townhall with buns spitted on +their bayonets, and the drummer of the battalion carried +a basket with bottles. Madame Bovary took +Rodolphe's arm; he saw her home; they separated at +her door; then he walked about alone in the meadow +while he waited for the time of the banquet.</p> + +<p>The feast was long, noisy, ill served; the guests +were so crowded that they could hardly move their +elbows; and the narrow planks used for forms almost +broke down under their weight. They ate hugely. +Each one stuffed himself on his own account. +Sweat stood on every brow, and a whitish steam, like +the vapor of a stream on an autumn morning, floated +above the table between the hanging lamps. Rodolphe, +leaning against the calico of the tent, was +thinking so earnestly of Emma that he heard nothing. +Behind him on the grass the servants were piling up +the dirty plates; his neighbors were talking; he did +not answer them; they filled his glass, and there was +silence in his thoughts in spite of the growing noise. +He was dreaming of what she had said, of the line of +her lips; her face, as in a magic mirror, shone on the +plates of the shakos, the folds of her gown fell along +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +the walls, and days of love unrolled to all infinity before +him in the vistas of the future.</p> + +<p>He saw her again in the evening during the fireworks, +but she was with her husband. Madame +Homais, and the druggist, who was worrying about +the danger of stray rockets, and every moment he +left the company to go and give some advice to Binet.</p> + +<p>The pyrotechnic pieces sent to Monsieur Tuvache +had, through an excess of caution, been shut up in +his cellar, and so the damp powder would not light, +and the principal set piece, that was to represent a +dragon biting his tail, failed completely. Now and +then a meager Roman-candle went off; then the +gaping crowd sent up a shout that mingled with the +cry of the women, whose waists were being squeezed +in the darkness. Emma silently nestled gently against +Charles's shoulder; then, raising her chin, she watched +the luminous rays of the rockets against the dark +sky. Rodolphe gazed at her in the light of the burning +lanterns.</p> + +<p>They went out one by one. The stars shone out. +A few drops of rain began to fall. She knotted her +fichu round her bare head.</p> + +<p>At this moment the councilor's carriage came out +from the inn. His coachman, who was drunk, suddenly +dozed off, and one could see from the distance, +above the hood, between the two lanterns, the mass +of his body, that swayed from right to left with the +giving of the traces.</p> + +<p>"Truly," said the chemist, "one ought to proceed +most rigorously against drunkenness! I should like to +see written up weekly at the door of the townhall on +a board <i>ad hoc</i> the names of all those who during +the week got intoxicated on alcohol. Besides, with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +regard to statistics, one would thus have, as it were, +public records that one could refer to in case of need. +But excuse me!"</p> + +<p>And he once more ran off to the captain. The +latter was going back to see his lathe again.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you would not do ill," Homais said to +him, "to send one of your men, or to go yourself——"</p> + +<p>"Leave me alone!" answered the tax-collector. +"It's all right!"</p> + +<p>"Do not be uneasy," said the chemist, when he +returned to his friends. "Monsieur Binet has assured +me that all precautions have been taken. No sparks +have fallen; the pumps are full. Let us go to rest."</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi!</i> I want it," said Madame Homais, yawning +at large. "But never mind; we've had a beautiful +day for our fête."</p> + +<p>Rodolphe repeated in a low voice, and with a +tender look, "Oh, yes! very beautiful."</p> + +<p>And having bowed to one another, they separated.</p> + +<p>Two days later, in the "Fanal de Rouen," there +was a long article on the show. Homais had composed +it with <i>verve</i> the very next morning.</p> + +<p>"Why these festoons, these flowers, these garlands? +Whither hurries this crowd like the waves of +a furious sea under the torrents of a tropical sun pouring +its heat upon our heads?"</p> + +<p>Then he spoke of the condition of the peasants. +Certainly the Government was doing much, but not +enough. "Courage!" he cried to it; "a thousand +reforms are indispensable; let us accomplish them!" +Then touching on the entry of the councilor, he did +not forget "the martial air of our militia," nor "our +most merry village maidens," nor the "bald-headed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +old men like patriarchs who were there, and of whom +some, the remnants of our immortal phalanxes, still +felt their hearts beat at the manly sound of the +drums." He cited himself among the first of the members +of the jury, and he even called attention in a +note to the fact that Monsieur Homais, chemist, had +sent a memoir on cider to the agricultural society. +When he came to the distribution of the prizes, he +painted the joy of the prize-winners in dithyrambic +strophes. "The father embraced the son, the brother +the brother, the husband his consort. More than one +showed his humble medal with pride; and no doubt +when he got home to his good housewife, he hung it +up weeping on the modest walls of his cot.</p> + +<p>"About six o'clock a banquet prepared in the +meadow of Monsieur Leigeard brought together the +principal personages of the fête. The greatest cordiality +reigned here. Divers toasts were proposed. +Monsieur Lieuvain, the King; Monsieur Tuvache, the +Prefect; Monsieur Derozerays, Agriculture; Monsieur +Homais, Industry and the Fine Arts, those twin sisters; +Monsieur Leplichey, Progress. In the evening +some brilliant fireworks on a sudden illumined the air. +One would have called it a veritable kaleidoscope, a +real operatic scene; and for a moment our little locality +might have thought itself transported into the midst +of a dream of the 'Thousand and One Nights.'</p> + +<p>"Let us state that no untoward event disturbed +this family meeting." And he added: "Only the +absence of the clergy was remarked. No doubt the +priests understand progress in another fashion. Just +as you please, messieurs the followers of Loyola!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<h4><a name="A_Woodland_Idyll" id="A_Woodland_Idyll"></a><span class="smcap">A Woodland Idyll.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap222"><span class="dropcap">S</span></span><br />IX weeks passed. Rodolphe did not +come again. At last one evening he +appeared.</p> + +<p>The day after the show he had +said to himself:</p> + +<p>"We mustn't go back too soon; +that would be a mistake."</p> + +<p>And at the end of a week he had gone off hunting. +After the hunting he had thought he was too late, +and then he reasoned thus:</p> + +<p>"If from the first day she loved me, she must, +from impatience to see me again, love me more. +Let's go on with it!"</p> + +<p>And he knew that his calculation had been right +when, on entering the room, he saw Emma turn pale. +She was alone. The day was drawing in. The +small muslin curtain along the windows deepened the +twilight, and the gilding of the barometer, on which +the rays of the sun fell, shone in the looking-glass +between the meshes of the coral.</p> + +<p>Rodolphe remained standing, and Emma hardly +answered his first conventional phrases.</p> + +<p>"I," he said, "have been busy. I have been ill."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +"Seriously?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Rodolphe, sitting down at her side +on a footstool, "no; it was because I did not want +to come back."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Can you not guess?"</p> + +<p>He looked at her again, but so hard that she lowered +her head, blushing. He went on:</p> + +<p>"Emma!"</p> + +<p>"Sir," she said, drawing back a little.</p> + +<p>"Ah! you see," replied he in a melancholy voice, +"that I was right not to come back; for this name, +this name that fills my whole soul, and that escaped +me, you forbid me to use! Madame Bovary! why +all the world calls you thus! Besides it is not your +name; it is the name of another!" he repeated, "of +another!" And he hid his face in his hands. "Yes, +I think of you constantly. The memory of you drives +me to despair. Ah! forgive me! I will leave you! +Farewell! I will go far away, so far that you will +never hear of me again; and yet—to-day—I know +not what force impelled me toward you. For one +does not struggle against Heaven; one cannot resist +the smile of angels; one is carried away by that which +is beautiful, charming, adorable."</p> + +<p>It was the first time that Emma had heard such +words spoken to herself, and her pride, like one who +reposes bathed in warmth, expanded softly and fully +at this glowing language.</p> + +<p>"But if I did not come," he continued, "if I could +not see you, at least I have gazed long on all that +surrounds you. At night—every night—I arose; I +came hither; I watched your house, its roof glimmering +in the moonlight, the trees in the garden before +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +your window, and the little lamp, a gleam shining +through the window-panes in the darkness. Ah! you +never knew that there, so near you, so far from you, +was a poor wretch!"</p> + +<p>She turned toward him with a sob.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are good!" she said.</p> + +<p>"No, I love you, that is all! You do not doubt +that! Tell me—one word—only one word!"</p> + +<p>And Rodolphe imperceptibly glided from the footstool +to the floor; but a sound of wooden shoes was +heard in the kitchen, and, he noticed the door of the +room was not closed.</p> + +<p>"How kind it would be of you," he went on, +rising, "if you would humor a whim of mine." It +was to go over her house; he wanted to know it; +and Madame Bovary seeing no objection to this, they +both rose, when Charles came in.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, doctor," Rodolphe said to him.</p> + +<p>The doctor, flattered at this unexpected title, +launched out into obsequious phrases. Of this the +other took advantage to pull himself together a little.</p> + +<p>"Madame was speaking to me," he then said, "about +her health."</p> + +<p>Charles interrupted him; he had indeed a thousand +anxieties; his wife's palpitations of the heart were beginning +again. Then Rodolphe asked if riding would +not be good.</p> + +<p>"Certainly! excellent! just the thing! There's an +idea! You ought to follow it up."</p> + +<p>And as she objected that she had no horse, Monsieur +Rodolphe offered one. She refused his offer; he +did not insist. Then to explain his visit he said that +his ploughman, the man of the blood-letting, still suffered +from giddiness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +"I'll call round," said Bovary.</p> + +<p>"No, no! I'll send him to you; we'll come; that +will be more convenient for you."</p> + +<p>"Ah! very good! I thank you."</p> + +<p>And as soon as they were alone, "Why don't you +accept Monsieur Boulanger's kind offer?"</p> + +<p>She assumed a sulky air, invented a thousand excuses, +and finally declared that perhaps it would look +odd.</p> + +<p>"Well, what the deuce do I care for that?" said +Charles, making a pirouette. "Health before everything! +You are wrong."</p> + +<p>"And how do you think I can ride when I haven't +got a habit?"</p> + +<p>"You must order one," he answered.</p> + +<p>The riding-habit decided her.</p> + +<p>When the habit was ready, Charles wrote to Monsieur +Boulanger that his wife was at his command, +and that they counted on his good-nature.</p> + +<p>The next day at noon Rodolphe appeared at +Charles's door with two saddle-horses. One had pink +rosettes at his ears and a deerskin side-saddle.</p> + +<p>Rodolphe had put on high soft boots, saying to +himself that no doubt she had never seen anything +like them. In fact, Emma was charmed with his appearance +as he stood on the landing in his great velvet +coat and white corduroy breeches. She was ready; +she was waiting for him.</p> + +<p>Justin escaped from the chemist's to see her start, +and the chemist also came out. He was giving Monsieur +Boulanger a little good advice.</p> + +<p>"An accident happens so easily. Be careful! Your +horses perhaps are mettlesome."</p> + +<p>She heard a noise above her; it was Félicité drumming +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +on the window-panes to amuse little Berthe. +The child blew her a kiss; her mother answered with +a wave of her whip.</p> + +<p>"A pleasant ride!" cried Monsieur Homais. "Prudence! +above all, prudence!" And he flourished his +newspaper as he saw them disappear.</p> + +<p>As soon as he felt the ground, Emma's horse set off +at a gallop. Rodolphe galloped by her side. Now +and then they exchanged a word. Her figure slightly +bent, her hand well up, and her right arm stretched +out, she gave herself up to the cadence of the movement +that rocked her in her saddle. At the bottom +of the hill Rodolphe gave his horse its head; they +started together at a bound, then at the top suddenly +the horses stopped, and her large blue veil fell +about her.</p> + +<p>It was early in October. There was fog over the +land. Hazy clouds hovered on the horizon between +the outlines of the hills; others, rent asunder, floated +up and disappeared. Sometimes through a rift in the +clouds, beneath a ray of sunshine, gleamed from afar +the roofs of Yonville, with the gardens at the water's +edge, the yards, the walls, and the church steeple. +Emma half closed her eyes to pick out her house, and +never had this poor village where she lived appeared +so small. From the height on which they were, the +whole valley seemed an immense pale lake sending +off its vapor into the air. Clumps of trees here and +there stood out like black rocks, and the tall lines of +the poplars that rose above the mist were like a beach +stirred by the wind.</p> + +<p>Beside them, on the turf between the pines, a brown +light shimmered in the warm atmosphere. The earth, +ruddy like the powder of tobacco, deadened the noise +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +of their steps, and with the edge of their shoes the +horses as they walked kicked the fallen fir cones in +front of them.</p> + +<p>Rodolphe and Emma thus went along the skirt of +the wood. She turned away from time to time to +avoid his look, and then she saw only the pine trunks +in lines, whose monotonous succession made her a +little giddy. The horses were panting; the leather of +the saddles creaked.</p> + +<p>Just as they were entering the forest the sun shone +out.</p> + +<p>"God protects us!" said Rodolphe.</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Forward! forward!" he continued.</p> + +<p>He "tchk'd" with his tongue. The two beasts set +off at a trot. Long ferns by the roadside caught in +Emma's stirrup. Rodolphe leant forward and removed +them as they rode along. At other times to turn aside +the branches, he passed close to her, and Emma felt +his knee brushing against her leg. The sky was now +blue, the leaves no longer stirred. There were spaces +full of heather in flower, and plots of violets alternated +with the confused patches of the trees that were gray, +fawn, or golden colored, according to the nature of +their leaves. Often in the thicket was heard the fluttering +of wings, or else the hoarse, soft cry of the +ravens flying off amid the oaks.</p> + +<p>They dismounted. Rodolphe fastened up the horses. +She walked on in front on the moss between the +paths. But her long habit got in her way, although +she held it up by the skirt; and Rodolphe, walking +behind her, saw between the black cloth and the +black shoe the fineness of her white stocking, that +seemed to him as if it were a part of her nakedness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +She stopped. "I am tired," she said.</p> + +<p>"Come, try again," he went on. "Courage!"</p> + +<p>Then some hundred paces farther on she again +stopped, and through her veil, that fell sideways from +her man's hat over her hips, her face appeared in a +bluish transparency as if she were floating under +azure waves.</p> + +<p>"But where are we going?"</p> + +<p>He did not answer. She was breathing irregularly. +Rodolphe looked round him biting his mustache. +They came to a larger space where the coppice had +been cut. They sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree, +and Rodolphe began speaking to her of his love. He +did not begin by frightening her with compliments. +He was calm, serious, melancholy.</p> + +<p>Emma listened to him with bowed head, and +stirred the bits of wood on the ground with the tip +of her foot.</p> + +<p>But at the words, "Are not our destinies now +one?——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she replied. "You know that well. +It is impossible!"</p> + +<p>She rose to go. He seized her by the wrist. She +stopped. Then, having gazed at him for a few +moments with an amorous and humid look, she said +hurriedly:</p> + +<p>"Ah! do not speak of it again! Where are the +horses? Let us go back."</p> + +<p>He made a gesture of anger and annoyance. She +repeated:</p> + +<p>"Where are the horses? Where are the horses?"</p> + +<p>Then smiling a strange smile, his pupils fixed, his +teeth set, he advanced with outstretched arms. She +recoiled trembling. She stammered:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +"Oh, you frighten me! You hurt me! Let us +go!"</p> + +<p>"If it must be," he went on, his face changing; +and he again became respectful, caressing, timid. She +gave him her arm. They went back. He said:</p> + +<p>"What was the matter with you? Why? I do +not understand. You were mistaken, no doubt. In +my soul you are as a Madonna on a pedestal, in a +place lofty, secure, immaculate. But I want you for +my life. I must have your eyes, your voice, your +thought! Be my friend, my sister, my angel!"</p> + +<p>And he put out his arm around her waist. She +feebly tried to disengage herself. He supported her +thus as they walked along.</p> + +<p>But they heard the two horses browsing on the +leaves.</p> + +<p>"Oh! one moment!" said Rodolphe. "Do not +let us go! Stay!"</p> + +<p>He drew her farther on to a small pool where +duckweeds made a greenness on the water. Faded +waterlilies lay motionless between the reeds. At the +noise of their steps in the grass, frogs jumped away +to hide themselves.</p> + +<p>"I am wrong! I am wrong!" she said. "I am +mad to listen to you!"</p> + +<p>"Why? Emma! Emma!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rodolphe!" said the young woman slowly, +leaning on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>The cloth of her habit caught against the velvet of +his coat. She threw back her white neck, swelling +with a sigh, and faltering, in tears, with a long shudder +and hiding her face, she gave herself up to him.</p> + +<p>The shades of night were falling; the horizontal +sun passing between the branches dazzled the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +eyes. Here and there around her, in the leaves or on +the ground, trembled luminous patches, as if humming-birds +flying about had scattered their feathers. +Silence was everywhere; something sweet seemed to +come forth from the trees; she felt her heart, whose +beating had begun again, and the blood coursing +through her flesh like a stream of milk. Then far +away, beyond the wood, on the other hills, she +heard a vague prolonged cry, a voice which lingered, +and in silence she heard it mingling like music with +the last pulsations of her throbbing nerves. Rodolphe, +a cigar between his lips, was mending with his penknife +one of the two broken bridles.</p> + +<p>They returned to Yonville by the same road. On +the mud they saw again the traces of their horses +side by side, the same thickets, the same stones in +the grass; nothing around them seemed changed; and +yet for her something had happened more stupendous +than if the mountains had moved in their places. +Rodolphe now and again bent forward and took her +hand to kiss it.</p> + +<p>She was charming on horseback—upright, with her +slender waist, her knee bent on the mane of her +horse, her face something flushed by the fresh air +in the red of the evening.</p> + +<p>On entering Yonville she made her horse prance +in the road. People looked at her from the windows.</p> + +<p>At dinner her husband thought she looked well, +but she pretended not to hear him when he inquired +about her ride, and she remained sitting there with +her elbow at the side of her plate between the two +lighted candles.</p> + +<p>"'Emma!" he said.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +"Well, I spent the afternoon at Monsieur Alexandre's. +He has an old cob, still very fine, only a +little broken-kneed, that could be bought, I am very +sure, for a hundred crowns." He added, "And thinking +it might please you, I have bespoken it—bought +it. Have I done right? Do tell me!"</p> + +<p>She nodded her head in assent; then a quarter of +an hour later—</p> + +<p>"Are you going out to-night?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing, nothing, my dear!"</p> + +<p>And as soon as she had got rid of Charles she +went and shut herself up in her room.</p> + +<p>At first she felt stunned; she saw the trees, the +paths, the ditches, Rodolphe, and she again felt the +pressure of his arm, while the leaves rustled and +the reeds whistled.</p> + +<p>But when she saw herself in the glass she wondered +at her face. Never had her eyes been so large, +so black, of so profound a depth. Something subtle +about her being transfigured her. She repeated, "I have +a lover! a lover!" delighting at the idea as if a second +puberty had come to her. So at last she was to +know those joys of love, that fever of happiness of +which she had despaired! She was entering upon +marvels where all would be passion, ecstasy, delirium. +An azure infinity encompassed her, the heights of +sentiment sparkled under her thought, and ordinary +existence appeared remote, far below in the shade, +through the interspaces of these heights.</p> + +<p>Then she recalled the heroines of the books that +she had read, and the lyric legion of these adulterous +women began to sing in her memory with the voice +of sisters that charmed her. She became herself, as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +it were, an actual part of these imaginings, and +realized the love-dream of her youth as she saw herself +in this type of amorous women whom she had +so envied. Besides, Emma felt a satisfaction of +revenge. Had she not suffered enough? But now +she triumphed, and the love so long pent up burst +forth in full joyous bubblings. She tasted it without +remorse, without anxiety, without trouble.</p> + +<p>The day following passed with a new sweetness. +They made vows to one another. She told him of +her sorrows. Rodolphe interrupted her with kisses; +and she, looking at him through half-closed eyes, +asked him to call her again by her name—to say +that he loved her. They were in the forest, as yesterday, +in the shed of some wooden-shoe maker. The +walls were of straw, and the roof so low they had +to stoop. They were seated side by side on a bed +of dry leaves.</p> + +<p>From that day forth they wrote to one another +regularly every evening. Emma placed her letter at +the end of the garden, by the river, in a fissure of +the wall. Rodolphe came to fetch it, and put another +there, that she always found fault with as too short.</p> + +<p>One morning, when Charles had gone out before +daybreak, she was seized with the fancy to see Rodolphe +at once. She would go quickly to La Huchette, +stay there an hour, and be back again at Yonville +while every one was still asleep. This idea made her +pant with desire, and she soon found herself in the +middle of the field, walking with rapid steps, without +looking behind her.</p> + +<p>Day was just breaking. Emma from afar recognized +her lover's house. Its two dove-tailed weathercocks +stood out black against the pale dawn.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +Beyond the farmyard there was a detached building +that she thought must be the château. She +entered it as if the doors at her approach had opened wide +of their own accord. A large straight staircase led up +to the corridor, Emma raised the latch of a door, +and suddenly at the end of the room she saw a man +sleeping. It was Rodolphe. She uttered a cry.</p> + +<p>"You here? You here?" he repeated, "How did +you manage to come? Ah! your dress is damp."</p> + +<p>"I love you," she answered, passing her arms +round his neck.</p> + +<p>This first piece of daring successful, now every +time Charles went out early Emma dressed quickly +and slipped on tiptoe down the steps that led to the +waterside.</p> + +<p>But when the plank for the cows was taken up, +she had to go by the walls alongside of the river; the +bank was slippery; in order not to fall she caught +hold of the tufts of faded wallflowers. Then she went +across ploughed fields, in which she sank, stumbling, +and clogging her thin shoes. Her scarf, knotted round +her head, fluttered to the wind in the meadows. She +was afraid of the oxen; she began to run; she arrived +out of breath, with rosy cheeks, and breathing out +from her whole person a fresh perfume of sap, of verdure, +of the open air. At this hour Rodolphe still +slept. It was like a spring morning coming into his +room.</p> + +<p>The yellow curtains along the windows let a heavy, +whitish light enter softly. Emma felt about, opening +and closing her eyes, while the drops of dew hanging +from her hair formed, as it were, a topaz aureole +around her face. Rodolphe, laughing, drew her to +him and pressed her to his breast.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +Then she examined the apartment, opened the +drawers of the tables, combed her hair with his comb, +and looked at herself in his shaving-glass. Often she +even put between her teeth the big pipe that lay on +the table by the bed, amongst lemons and pieces of +sugar near a bottle of water.</p> + +<p>It took them a good quarter of an hour to say +good-bye. Then Emma wept. She would have wished +never to leave Rodolphe. Something stronger than +herself forced her to him; so much so, that one day, +seeing her come unexpectedly, he frowned as one put +out.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you?" she said. "Are +you ill? Tell me!"</p> + +<p>At last he declared with a serious air that her visits +were becoming imprudent—that she was compromising +herself.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 102px;"> +<img src="images/i234.jpg" width="102" height="60" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + +<h4>X.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Lovers_Vows" id="Lovers_Vows"></a><span class="smcap">Lovers' Vows.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap235"><span class="dropcap">G</span></span><br />RADUALLY Rodolphe's fears took +possession of her. At first, love had +intoxicated her, and she had thought +of nothing beyond. But now that +he was indispensable to her life, she +feared to lose anything of this, or +even that it should be disturbed. When she came +back from his house, she looked all about her, anxiously +watching every form that passed in the horizon, +and every village window from which she could +be seen. She listened for steps, cries, the noise of +the ploughs, and she stopped short, white, and trembling +more than the aspen leaves swaying overhead.</p> + +<p>One morning as she was thus returning, she suddenly +thought she saw the long barrel of a carbine that +seemed to be aimed at her. It stuck out sideways +from the end of a small tub half-buried in the grass +on the edge of a ditch. Emma, half-fainting with +terror, nevertheless walked on, and a man stepped +out of the tub like a Jack-in-the-box. He had gaiters +buckled up to the knees, his cap pulled down over +his eyes, trembling lips, and a red nose. It was +Captain Binet lying in ambush for wild ducks.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +"You ought to have called out long ago!" he +exclaimed. "When one sees a gun, one should +always give warning."</p> + +<p>The tax-collector was thus trying to hide the fright +he had had, for a prefectorial order having prohibited +duck-hunting except in boats, Monsieur Binet, despite +his respect for the laws, was infringing them, and so +he every moment expected to see the rural guard +turn up. But this anxiety whetted his pleasure, and, +all alone in his tub, he congratulated himself on his +luck and on his cleverness.</p> + +<p>At sight of Emma he seemed relieved from a +great weight, and at once entered upon a conversation.</p> + +<p>"It isn't warm; it's nipping."</p> + +<p>Emma answered nothing. He went on—</p> + +<p>"And you're out so early?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said stammering; "I am just coming +from the nurse where my child is."</p> + +<p>"Ah! very good! very good! For myself, I am +here, just as you see me, since break of day; but the +weather is so muggy, that unless one had the bird at +the mouth of the gun——"</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Monsieur Binet," she interrupted +him, turning on her heel.</p> + +<p>"Your servant, madame," he replied drily; and +he went back into his tub.</p> + +<p>Emma regretted having left the tax-collector so +abruptly. No doubt he would form unfavorable conjectures. +The story about the nurse was the worst +possible excuse, every one at Yonville knowing that +the little Bovary had been at home with her parents +for a year. Besides, no one was living in this direction; +this path led only to La Huchette. Binet, then, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +would guess whence she came, and he would not +keep silence; he would talk, that was certain. She +remained until evening racking her brain with every +conceivable lying project, and had constantly before +her eyes that imbecile with the game-bag.</p> + +<p>Charles after dinner, seeing her gloomy, proposed, +by way of distraction, to take her to the chemist's, +and the first person she caught sight of in the shop +was the tax-collector again. He was standing in +front of the counter, lighted by the gleams of the red +bottle, and was saying:</p> + +<p>"Please give me half an ounce of vitriol."</p> + +<p>"Justin," cried the druggist, "bring us the sulphuric +acid." Then to Emma, who was going up +to Madame Homais' room, "No, stay here; it isn't +worth while going up; she is just coming down. +Warm yourself at the stove in the meantime. Excuse +me. Good-day, doctor" (for the chemist much +enjoyed pronouncing the word "doctor," as if addressing +another by it reflected on himself some of +the grandeur that he found in it). "Now, take care +not to upset the mortars! You'd better fetch some +chairs from the little room; you know very well that +the <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chairs">armchairs</ins> are not to be taken out of the drawing-room."</p> + +<p>And to put his <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chair">armchair</ins> back in its place he was +darting away from the counter, when Binet asked him +for half an ounce of sugar acid.</p> + +<p>"Sugar acid!" said the chemist contemptuously, +"don't know it; I'm ignorant of it! But perhaps you +want oxalic acid. It is oxalic acid, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Binet explained that he wanted a corrosive to +make himself some copper-water with which to remove +rust from his hunting things.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +Emma shuddered. The chemist began, saying:</p> + +<p>"Indeed the weather is not propitious on account +of the damp."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," replied the tax-collector, with a +sly look, "there are people who like it."</p> + +<p>She was stifling.</p> + +<p>"And give me——"</p> + +<p>"Will he never go?" thought she.</p> + +<p>"Half an ounce of resin and turpentine, four ounces +of yellow wax, and three half ounces of animal charcoal, +if you please, to clean the varnished leather of +my togs."</p> + +<p>The chemist was beginning to cut the wax when +Madame Homais appeared, Irma in her arms, Napoléon +by her side, and Athalie following. She sat down on +the velvet seat by the window, and the lad squatted +down on a footstool, while his eldest sister hovered +round the jujube box near her papa. The latter was +filling funnels and corking phials, sticking on labels, +making up parcels. Around him all were silent; only +from time to time were heard the weights jingling in +the balance, and a few low words from the chemist +giving directions to his pupil.</p> + +<p>"And how's the little woman?" suddenly asked +Madame Homais.</p> + +<p>"Silence!" exclaimed her husband, who was writing +down some figures in his waste-book.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you bring her?" she went on in a +low voice.</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush!" said Emma, pointing with her +finger to the chemist.</p> + +<p>But Binet, quite absorbed in looking over his bill, +had probably heard nothing. At last he went out. +Then Emma, relieved, uttered a deep sigh.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +"How hard you are breathing!" said Madame +Homais.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, it's rather warm," she replied.</p> + +<p>The next day the lovers discussed how to arrange +their rendezvous. Emma wanted to bribe her servant +with a present, but it would be better to find some +safe house at Yonville. Rodolphe promised to look +for one.</p> + +<p>All through the winter, three or four times a week, +in the dead of night he came to the garden. Emma +had on purpose taken away the key of the gate, +which Charles thought lost.</p> + +<p>To call her, Rodolphe threw a sprinkle of sand at +the shutters. She jumped up with a start; but sometimes +he had to wait, for Charles had a mania for +chatting by the fireside, and he would not stop. She +was wild with impatience; if her eyes could have +done it, she would have hurled him out at the window. +At last she would begin to undress, then take up a +book, and go on reading very quietly as if the book +amused her. But Charles, who was in bed, called to +her to come too.</p> + +<p>"Come, now, Emma," he said, "it is time."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am coming," she answered.</p> + +<p>Then, as the candles dazzled him, he turned to the +wall and fell asleep. She escaped, smiling, palpitating, +undressed.</p> + +<p>Rodolphe had a large cloak; he wrapped her in it, +and putting his arm around her waist, he drew her +without a word to the end of the garden.</p> + +<p>It was in the arbor, on the same seat of old sticks +where formerly Léon had looked at her so amorously +on the summer evenings. She never thought of him +now.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +The stars shone through the leafless jasmine +branches. Behind them they heard the river flowing, +and now and again on the bank the rustling of the +dry reeds. Masses of shadow here and there loomed +out in the darkness and sometimes, vibrating with +one movement, they rose up and swayed like immense +black waves pressing forward to engulf them. +The cold of the nights made them clasp closer; the +sighs of their lips seemed to them deeper; their eyes, +that they could hardly see, larger; and in the midst +of the silence low words were spoken that fell on +their souls sonorous, crystalline, and reverberating in +multiplied vibrations.</p> + +<p>When the night was rainy, they took refuge in +the consulting-room between the car-shed and the +stable. She lighted one of the kitchen candles that +she had hidden behind the books. Rodolphe settled +down there as if at home. The sight of the library, +of the bureau, of the whole apartment, in fine, excited +his merriment, and he could not refrain from +making jokes about Charles, which rather embarrassed +Emma. She would have liked to see him more serious, +and even on occasions more dramatic; as, for +example, when she thought she heard a noise of approaching +steps in the alley.</p> + +<p>"Some one is coming!" she said.</p> + +<p>He blew out the light.</p> + +<p>"Have you your pistols?"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why, to defend yourself," replied Emma.</p> + +<p>"From your husband? Oh, poor devil!" And +Rodolphe finished his sentence with a gesture that +said, "I could crush him with a flip of my finger."</p> + +<p>She was wonder-stricken at his bravery, although +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +she felt in it a sort of indecency and a naïve coarseness +that scandalized her.</p> + +<p>Rodolphe reflected a good deal on the affair of the +pistols. If she had spoken seriously, it was very ridiculous, +he thought, even odious; for he had no reason +to hate the good Charles, not being what is called +devoured by jealousy; and on this subject Emma had +treated him to a lecture, which he did not think in +the best taste.</p> + +<p>Besides, she was growing very sentimental. She +had insisted on exchanging miniatures; they had cut +handfuls of hair, and now she was asking for a ring—a +real wedding-ring, in sign of an eternal union. She +often spoke to him of the evening chimes, of the +voices of nature. Then she talked to him of her +mother—hers! and of his mother—his! Rodolphe +had lost his twenty years ago. Emma none the less +consoled him with caressing words as one would +soothe a forsaken child, and she sometimes even said +to him, gazing at the moon:</p> + +<p>"I am sure that above there together they approve +of our love."</p> + +<p>But she was so pretty! He had possessed so few +women of such ingenuousness. This love without +debauchery was a new experience for him, and, drawing +him out of his lazy habits, caressed at once his +pride and his sensuality. Emma's enthusiasm, which +his bourgeois good sense disdained, seemed to him +in his heart of hearts charming, since it was lavished +on him. Then, sure of being loved, he no longer +kept up appearances, and insensibly his ways changed.</p> + +<p>He had no longer, as formerly, words so gentle +that they made her cry, nor passionate caresses that +made her mad; so that their great love, which engrossed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +her life, seemed to lessen beneath her like the +water of a stream absorbed into its channel, and she +could see the bed of it. She would not believe it; +she redoubled in tenderness, and Rodolphe concealed +his indifference less and less.</p> + +<p>She did not know whether she regretted yielding +to him, or whether she did not wish, on the contrary, +to enjoy him the more. The humiliation of +feeling herself weak was turning to rancour, tempered +by their voluptuous pleasures. It was not affection; it +was like a continual seduction. He subjugated her; +she almost feared him.</p> + +<p>Appearances, nevertheless, were calmer than ever, +Rodolphe having succeeded in carrying out the +adultery after his own fancy; and at the end of six +months, when the spring-time came, they were to +one another like a married couple, tranquilly keeping +up a domestic flame.</p> + +<p>It was the time of year when old Rouault sent his +turkey in remembrance of the setting of his leg. The +present always arrived with a letter. Emma cut the +string that tied it to the basket, and read the following +lines:—</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="blockquot">"<span class="smcap">My Dear Children</span>,—I hope this will find you in +good health, and that it will be as good as the +others, for it seems to me a little more tender, if I +may venture to say so, and heavier. But next +time, for a change, I'll give you a turkey-cock, unless +you have a preference for some dabs; and send me +back the hamper, if you please, with the two old +ones. I have had an accident with my cart-sheds, +whose covering flew off one windy night among the +trees. The harvest has not been over-good either. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +Finally, I don't know when I shall come to see you. +It is so difficult now to leave the house since I am +alone, my poor Emma."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Here there was a break in the lines, as if the old +fellow had dropped his pen to dream a little while.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="blockquot">"For myself, I am very well, except for a cold I +caught the other day at the fair at Yvetot, where I +had gone to hire a shepherd, having turned away +mine because he was too dainty. How we are to be +pitied with such a lot of thieves! Besides, he was +also rude. I heard from a pedlar, who, traveling +through your part of the country this winter, had a +tooth drawn, that Bovary was as usual working hard. +That doesn't surprise me; and he showed me his +tooth; we had some coffee together. I asked him if +he had seen you, and he said not, but that he had +seen two horses in the stables, from which I conclude +that business is looking up. So much the better, my +dear children, and may God send you every imaginable +happiness! It grieves me not yet to have seen +my dear little grand-daughter, Berthe Bovary. I have +planted an Orleans plum-tree for her in the garden +under your room, and I won't have it touched unless +it is to have jam made for her by-and-bye, that I will +keep in the cupboard for when she comes.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Good-bye my dear children. I kiss you, my +girl, you too, my son-in-law, and the little one on +both cheeks. I am, with best compliments, your +loving father,</p> + +<p class="right"> +"<span class="smcap">Théodore Rouault</span>." +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>She held the coarse paper in her fingers for some +minutes. The mistakes in spelling interwove with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +one another, but Emma followed the kindly thought +that chattered through it all like a hen half hidden in +a hedge of thorns. The writing had been dried with +ashes from the hearth, for a little grey powder slipped +from the letter on to her dress, and she almost thought +she saw her father bending over the hearth to take +up the tongs. How long since she had been with +him, sitting on the footstool in the chimney-corner, +where she used to burn the end of a bit of wood in +the great flame of the sea-sedges! She remembered +the summer evenings all full of sunshine. The colts +neighed when any one passed by, and galloped, galloped. +Under her window there was a beehive, and +sometimes the bees wheeling round in the light struck +against her window like rebounding balls of gold. +What happiness she had had at that time, what freedom, +what hope! What an abundance of illusions! +Nothing was left of them now. She had got rid of +them all in her soul's life, in all her successive conditions +of life,—maidenhood, her marriage, and her love;—thus +constantly losing them all her life through, +like a traveller who leaves something of his wealth at +every inn along his road.</p> + +<p>But what, then, made her so unhappy? What was +the extraordinary catastrophe that had transformed +her? And she raised her head, looking round as if to +seek the cause of that which made her suffer.</p> + +<p>An April ray was dancing on the china of the +<i>étagère</i>; the fire burned; beneath her slippers she +felt the softness of the carpet; the day was bright, +the air warm, and she heard her child shouting with +laughter.</p> + +<p>In fact, the little girl was just then rolling on the +lawn in the midst of the grass that was being turned. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +She was lying flat on her stomach at the top of a +rick. The servant was holding her by her skirt. +Lestiboudois was raking by her side, and every time +he came near she leant forward, beating the air with +both her arms.</p> + +<p>"Bring her to me," said her mother, rushing to +embrace her. "How I love you, my poor child! +How I love you!"</p> + +<p>Then, noticing that the tips of her ears were rather +dirty, she rang at once for warm water, and washed +her, changed her linen, her stockings, her shoes, asked +a thousand questions about her health, as if on the +return from a long journey, and finally, kissing her +again and crying a little, she gave her back to the +servant, who stood quite thunder-stricken at this +excess of tenderness.</p> + +<p>That evening Rodolphe found her more serious +than usual.</p> + +<p>"That will pass over," he concluded; "it's a +whim."</p> + +<p>And he missed three rendezvous running. When +he did come, she showed herself cold and almost +contemptuous.</p> + +<p>"Ah! you're losing your time, my lady!"</p> + +<p>And he pretended not to notice her melancholy +sighs, nor the handkerchief she took out.</p> + +<p>Then Emma repented. She even asked herself +why she detested Charles; if it had not been better +to have been able to love him? But he gave her no +opportunities for such a revival of sentiment, so that +she was much embarrassed by her desire for sacrifice, +when the chemist came just in time to provide her +with an opportunity.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XI.</h4> + +<h4><a name="An_Experiment_And_A_Failure" id="An_Experiment_And_A_Failure"></a><span class="smcap">An Experiment and a Failure.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap246"><span class="dropcap">H</span></span><br />E had recently read a eulogy on a +new method for curing club-foot, +and as he was a partisan of progress, +he conceived the patriotic +idea that Yonville, in order to +keep to the fore, ought to have some +operations for strephopody or club-foot.</p> + +<p>"For," said he to Emma, "what risk is there? +See" (and he enumerated on his fingers the advantages +of the attempt), "success, almost certain relief +and beautifying the patient, celebrity acquired by the +operator. Why, for example, should not your husband +relieve poor Hippolyte of the 'Lion d'Or'? +Note that he would not fail to tell about his cure to +all the travellers, and then" (Homais lowered his +voice and looked round him), "who is to prevent +me from sending a short paragraph on the subject to +the paper? Eh! goodness me! an article gets about; +it is talked of; it ends by making a snowball! And +who knows? who knows?"</p> + +<p>In fact, Bovary might succeed. Nothing proved to +Emma that he was not clever; and what a satisfaction +for her to have urged him to a step by which +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +his reputation and fortune would be increased! She +only wished to lean on something more solid than +love.</p> + +<p>Charles, urged by the chemist and by her, allowed +himself to be persuaded. He sent to Rouen for Dr. +Duval's volume, and every evening, holding his head +between both hands, plunged into the reading of it.</p> + +<p>While he was studying equinus, varus, and valgus, +that is to say, <i>katastrephopody</i>, <i>endostrephopody</i>, and +<i>exostrephopody</i> (or better, the various turnings of the +foot downwards, inwards, and outwards, with the +<i>hypostrephopody</i> and <i>anastrephopody</i>), otherwise torsion +downwards and upwards, Monsieur Homais, +with all sorts of arguments, was exhorting the lad at +the inn to submit to the operation.</p> + +<p>"You will scarcely feel, probably, a slight pain; +it is a simple prick, like a little blood-letting, less +than the extraction of certain corns."</p> + +<p>Hippolyte, reflecting, rolled his stupid eyes.</p> + +<p>"However," continued the chemist, "it doesn't +concern me. It's for your sake, for pure humanity! +I should like to see you, my friend, rid of your +hideous deformity, together with that waddling of +the lumbar regions which, whatever you say, must +considerably interfere with you in the exercise of +your calling."</p> + +<p>Then Homais represented to him how much jollier +and brisker he would feel afterwards, and even gave +him to understand that he would be more likely to +please the women; and the stable-boy began to smile +heavily. Then he attacked him through his vanity:—</p> + +<p>"Aren't you a man? Hang it! what would you +have done if you had had to go into the army, to go +and fight beneath the standard? Ah! Hippolyte!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +And Homais retired, declaring that he could not +understand this obstinacy, this blindness in refusing +the benefactions of science.</p> + +<p>The poor fellow gave way, for it was like a conspiracy. +Binet, who never interfered with other +people's business, Madame Lefrançois, Artémise, the +neighbors, even the mayor, Monsieur Tuvache—every +one persuaded him, lectured him, shamed him; but +what finally decided him was that it would cost him +nothing. Bovary even undertook to provide the +machine for the operation. This generosity was an +idea of Emma's, and Charles consented to it, thinking +in his heart of hearts that his wife was an angel.</p> + +<p>So, by the advice of the chemist, and after three +fresh starts, he had a kind of box made by the carpenter, +with the aid of the locksmith, that weighed +about eight pounds, in which iron, wood, sheet-iron, +leather, screws, and nuts had not been spared.</p> + +<p>But to know which of Hippolyte's tendons to cut, +it was necessary first of all to find out what kind of +club-foot he had.</p> + +<p>He had a foot forming almost a straight line with +the leg, which, however, did not prevent it from +being turned in, so that it was an equinus together +with something of a varus, or else a slight varus +with a strong tendency to equinus. But with this +equinus, wide in foot like a horse's hoof, with rugose +skin, dry tendons, and large toes, on which the black +nails looked as if made of iron, the club-foot ran +about like a deer from morn till night. He was +constantly to be seen on the Place, jumping around +the carts, thrusting his limping foot forward. He +seemed even stronger on that leg than the other. By +dint of hard service it had acquired, as it were, moral +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +qualities of patience and of energy; and when he was +doing some heavy work, he stood on it in preference +to its fellow.</p> + +<p>Now, as it was an equinus, it was necessary to +cut the tendo Achillis, and, if need were, the anterior +tibial muscle could be seen to afterwards for getting +rid of the varus; for the doctor did not dare to risk +both operations at once; he was even trembling +already for fear of injuring some important region +that he did not know.</p> + +<p>Neither Ambrose Paré, applying for the first time +since Celsus, after an interval of fifteen centuries, a +ligature to an artery, nor Dupuytren, about to open +an abscess in the brain, nor Gensoul when he first +took away the superior maxilla, had hearts that +trembled, hands that shook, minds so strained as +had the doctor when he approached Hippolyte, his +tenotome between his fingers. And, as at hospitals, +near by on a table lay a heap of lint, with waxed +thread, many bandages—a pyramid of bandages—every +bandage to be found at the chemist's. It was +Monsieur Homais who since morning had been organising +all these preparations, as much to dazzle the +multitude as to keep up his illusions. Charles pierced +the skin; a dry crackling was heard. The tendon +was cut, the operation over. Hippolyte could not +get over his surprise, but bent over Bovary's hands +to cover them with kisses.</p> + +<p>"Come, be calm," said the chemist; "later you +will show your gratitude to your benefactor."</p> + +<p>And he went down to tell the result to five or +six inquirers who were waiting in the yard, and who +fancied that Hippolyte would reappear walking properly. +Then Charles, having buckled his patient into +the machine, went home, where Emma, all anxiety, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +awaited him at the door. She threw herself on his +neck: they sat down to table; he ate much, and at +dessert he even wished to take a cup of coffee, a +luxury he permitted himself only on Sundays when +there was company.</p> + +<p>The evening was charming, full of prattle, of +dreams together. They talked about their future +fortune, of the improvements to be made in their +house; he saw people's estimation of him growing, +his comforts increasing, his wife always loving him; +and she was happy to refresh herself with a new sentiment, +healthier, better, to feel at last some tenderness +for this poor fellow who adored her. The thought +of Rodolphe for one moment passed through her +mind, but her eyes turned again to Charles; she even +noticed with surprise that he had not bad teeth.</p> + +<p>They were in bed when Monsieur Homais, in +spite of the servant, suddenly entered the room, +holding in his hand a sheet of paper just written. +It was the paragraph he intended for the "Fanal de +Rouen." He brought it them to read.</p> + +<p>"Read it yourself," said Bovary.</p> + +<p>He read:</p> + +<p>"'Despite the prejudices that still cover a part of +the face of Europe like a net, the light nevertheless +begins to penetrate our country places. Thus on Tuesday +our little town of Yonville found itself the scene +of a surgical operation which is at the same time an +act of loftiest philanthropy. Monsieur Bovary, one of +our most distinguished practitioners——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is too much! too much!" said Charles, +choking with emotion.</p> + +<p>"No, no! not at all! What next!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +"'——Performed an operation on a club-footed +man.' I have not used the scientific term, because +you know in a newspaper every one would not perhaps +understand. The masses must——"</p> + +<p>"No doubt," said Bovary; "go on!"</p> + +<p>"I proceed," said the chemist. "'Monsieur +Bovary, one of our most distinguished practitioners, +performed an operation on a club-footed man called +Hippolyte Tautain, stable-man for the last twenty-five +years at the hotel of the "Lion d'Or," kept by Widow +Lefrançois, at the Place d'Armes. The novelty of the +attempt, and the interest incident to the subject, had +attracted such a concourse of persons that there was +a veritable obstruction on the threshold of the establishment. +The operation, moreover, was performed as +if by magic, and barely a few drops of blood appeared +on the skin, as if to show that the rebellious tendon +had at last given way beneath the efforts of art. +The patient, strangely enough—we affirm it as an +eye-witness—complained of no pain. His condition +up to the present time leaves nothing to be desired. +Everything tends to show that his convalescence will +be brief; and who knows whether, at our next village +festivity, we shall not see our good Hippolyte figuring +in the bacchic dance in the midst of a chorus of joyous +boon-companions, and thus proving to all eyes by +his verve and his capers his complete cure? Honor, +then, to the generous savants! Honor to those indefatigable +spirits who consecrate their vigils to the amelioration +or to the alleviation of their kind! Honor, +thrice honor! Is it not time to cry that the blind +shall see, the deaf hear, the lame walk? But that +which fanaticism formerly promised to its elect, science +now accomplishes for all men. We shall keep our +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +readers informed as to the successive phases of this +remarkable cure.'"</p> + +<p class="center">* * *</p> + +<p>This did not prevent Mère Lefrançois from coming +five days after, scared, and crying out—</p> + +<p>"Help! he is dying! I am going crazy!"</p> + +<p>Charles rushed to the "Lion d'Or," and the chemist, +who caught sight of him passing along the Place +hatless, abandoned his shop. He appeared himself +breathless, red, anxious, and asking every one who +was going up the stairs—</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter with our interesting +strephopode?"</p> + +<p>The strephopode was writhing in hideous convulsions, +so that the machine in which his leg was enclosed +was knocked against the wall enough to break it.</p> + +<p>With many precautions, in order not to disturb +the position of the limb, the box was removed, and +an awful sight presented itself. The outlines of the +foot disappeared in such a swelling that the entire +skin seemed about to burst, and it was covered with +ecchymosis, caused by the famous machine. Hippolyte +had already complained of suffering from it. No attention +had been paid to him; they had to acknowledge +that he had not been altogether wrong, and he +was freed for a few hours. But hardly had the +œdema gone down to some extent, than the two savants +thought fit to put back the limb in the apparatus, +strapping it tighter to hasten matters. At last, +three days after, Hippolyte being unable to endure it +any longer, they once more removed the machine, +and were much surprised at the result they saw. The +livid tumefaction spread over the leg, with blisters +here and there, whence oozed a black liquid. Matters +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +were taking a serious turn. Hippolyte began to worry +himself, and Mère Lefrançois had him installed in the +little room near the kitchen, so that he might at least +have some distraction.</p> + +<p>But the tax-collector, who dined there every day, +complained bitterly of such companionship. Then +Hippolyte was removed to the billiard-room. He lay +there moaning under his heavy coverings, pale, with +long beard, sunken eyes, and from time to time turning +his perspiring head on the dirty pillow, where +the flies alighted. Madame Bovary went to see him. +She brought him linen for his poultices; she comforted +and encouraged him. Besides, he did not want +for company, especially on market-days, when the +peasants were knocking about the billiard-balls round +him, fenced with the cues, smoked, drank, sang, and +brawled.</p> + +<p>"How are you?" they said, clapping him on the +shoulder. "Ah! you're not up to much, it seems, but +it's your own fault. You should do this! do that!" +And then they told him stories of people who had all +been cured by other remedies than his. Then by way of +consolation they added:—</p> + +<p>"You give way too much! Get up! You coddle +yourself like a king! All the same, old chap, you +don't smell nice!"</p> + +<p>Gangrene, in fact, was spreading more and more. +Bovary himself turned sick at it. He came every +hour, every moment. Hippolyte looked at him with +eyes full of terror, sobbing—</p> + +<p>"When shall I get well? Oh, save me! How +unfortunate I am! how unfortunate I am!"</p> + +<p>And the doctor left, always recommending him to +diet himself.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +"Don't listen to him, my lad," said Mère Lefrançois. +"Haven't they tortured you enough already? +You'll grow still weaker. Here! swallow this."</p> + +<p>And she gave him some good beef-tea, a slice of +mutton, a piece of bacon, and sometimes small glasses +of brandy, that he had not the strength to put to his +lips.</p> + +<p>Abbé Bournisien, hearing that he was growing +worse, asked to see him. He began by pitying his +sufferings, declaring at the same time that he ought +to rejoice at them since it was the will of the Lord, +and take advantage of the occasion to reconcile himself +to Heaven.</p> + +<p>"For," said the ecclesiastic in a paternal tone, +"you rather neglected your duties; you were rarely +seen at divine worship. How many years is it since +you approached the holy table? I understand that +your work, that the whirl of the world may have +kept you from care for your salvation. But now is +the time to reflect. Yet don't despair. I have known +great sinners, who, about to appear before God (you +are not yet at this point, I know), had implored His +mercy, and who certainly died in the best frame of +mind. Let us hope that, like them, you will set us a +good example. Thus, as a precaution, what is to +prevent you from saying morning and evening a +'Hail Mary, full of grace,' and 'Our Father which art +in heaven'? Yes, do that, for my sake, to oblige +me. That won't cost you anything. Will you promise +me?"</p> + +<p>The poor devil promised. The curé came back +day after day. He chatted with the landlady, and +even told anecdotes interspersed with jokes and puns +that Hippolyte did not understand. Then, as soon as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +he could, he fell back upon matters of religion, putting +on an appropriate expression of face.</p> + +<p>His zeal seemed successful, for the club-foot soon +manifested a desire to go on a pilgrimage to Bon-Secours +if he were cured; to which Monsieur Bournisien +replied that he saw no objection; two precautions +were better than one; it was no risk.</p> + +<p>The chemist was indignant at what he called the +manœuvres of the priest; they were prejudicial, he +said, to Hippolyte's convalescence, and he kept repeating +to Madame Lefrançois, "Leave him alone! +leave him alone! You perturb his morals with your +mysticism."</p> + +<p>But the good woman would no longer listen to +him; he was the cause of it all. From a spirit of +contradiction she hung up near the bedside of the +patient a basin filled with holy-water and a branch +of box.</p> + +<p>Religion, however, seemed no more able to succour +him than surgery, and the invincible gangrene +still spread from the extremities towards the stomach. +It was all very well to vary the potions and change +the poultices; the muscles each day rotted more and +more; and at last Charles replied by an affirmative +nod of the head when Mère Lefrançois asked him if +she could not, as a forlorn hope, send for Monsieur +Canivet of Neufchâtel, who was a celebrity.</p> + +<p>A doctor of medicine, fifty years of age, enjoying +a good position and self-possessed, Charles's colleague +did not refrain from laughing disdainfully when he +had uncovered the leg, mortified to the knee. Then +having flatly declared that it must be amputated, he +went off to the chemist's to rail at the asses who +could have reduced a poor man to such a state. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +Shaking Monsieur Homais by the button of his coat, +he shouted out in the shop:</p> + +<p>"These are the inventions of Paris! These are +the ideas of those gentry of the capital! It is like +strabismus, chloroform, lithotrity, a heap of monstrosities +that the Government ought to prohibit. But +they want to do the clever, and they cram you with +remedies without troubling about the consequences. +We are not so clever, not we! We are not savants, +coxcombs, fops! We are practitioners; we cure +people, and we should not dream of operating on any +one who is in perfect health. Straighten club-feet! +As if one could straighten club-feet! It is as if one +wished, for example, to make a hunchback straight!"</p> + +<p>Homais suffered as he listened to this discourse, +and he concealed his discomfort beneath a courtier's +smile; for he needed to humour Monsieur Canivet, +whose prescriptions sometimes came as far as Yonville. +So he did not take up the defense of Bovary; he +did not even make a single remark, and, renouncing +his principles, he sacrificed his dignity to the more +serious interests of his business.</p> + +<p>This amputation of the thigh by Doctor Canivet +was a great event in the village. On that day all the +inhabitants got up earlier, and the Grande Rue, although +full of people, had something lugubrious about +it, as if an execution had been expected. At the +grocer's they discussed Hippolyte's illness; the shops +did no business, and Madame Tuvache, the mayor's +wife, did not stir from her window, such was her +impatience to see the operator arrive.</p> + +<p>He came in his gig, which he drove himself. But +the springs of the right side having at length given +way beneath the weight of his corpulence, it happened +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +that the carriage as it rolled along leaned over a little, +and on the other cushion near him could be seen a +large box covered in red sheep-leather, whose three +brass clasps shone grandly.</p> + +<p>After he had entered like a whirlwind the porch of +the "Lion d'Or," the doctor, shouting very loud, ordered +them to unharness his horse. Then he went +into the stable to see that he was eating his oats all +right; for on arriving at a patient's he first of all +looked after his mare and his gig. People even said +about this:</p> + +<p>"Ah! Monsieur Camvet's a character!"</p> + +<p>And he was the more esteemed for this imperturbable +coolness. The universe to the last man might +have died, and he would not have missed the smallest +of his habits.</p> + +<p>Homais presented himself.</p> + +<p>"I count on you," said the doctor. "Are we +ready? Come along!"</p> + +<p>But the chemist, turning red, confessed that he +was too sensitive to assist at such an operation.</p> + +<p>"When one is a simple spectator," he said, +"the imagination, you know, is impressed. And +then I have such a nervous system!"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" interrupted Canivet; "on the contrary, +you seem to me inclined to apoplexy. Besides, that +doesn't astonish me, for you chemist fellows are +always poking about your kitchens, which must end +by spoiling your constitutions. Now just look at me. +I get up every day at four o'clock; I shave with +cold water (and am never cold). I don't wear +flannels, and I never catch cold; my carcass is good +enough! I live now in one way, now in another, +like a philosopher, taking pot-luck; that is why I am +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +not squeamish like you, and it is as indifferent to me +to carve a Christian as the first fowl that turns up. +Then, perhaps, you will say, habit! habit!"</p> + +<p>Then, without any consideration for Hippolyte, +who was sweating with agony between his sheets, +these gentlemen entered into a conversation, in which +the chemist compared the coolness of a surgeon to +that of a general; and this comparison was pleasing +to Canivet, who launched out on the exigencies +of his art. He looked upon it as a sacred office, +although the ordinary practitioners dishonoured it. At +last, coming back to the patient, he examined the +bandages brought by Homais, the same that had +appeared for the club-foot, and asked for some one to +hold the limb for him. Lestiboudois was sent for, +and Monsieur Canivet having turned up his sleeves, +passed into the billiard-room, while the chemist stayed +with Artémise and the landlady, both whiter than +their aprons, and with ears strained towards the door.</p> + +<p>Bovary during this time did not dare to stir from +his house. He kept downstairs in the sitting-room +by the side of the fireless chimney, his chin on his +breast, his hands clasped, his eyes staring. "What +a mishap!" he thought, "what a mishap!" Perhaps, +after all, he had made some slip. He thought it over, +but could hit upon nothing. But the most famous +surgeons also made mistakes; and that is what no +one would ever believe! People, on the contrary, +would laugh, jeer! It would spread as far as Forges, +as Neufchâtel, as Rouen, everywhere! Who could +say if his colleagues would not write against him. +Polemics would ensue; he would have to answer in +the papers. Hippolyte might even prosecute him. +He saw himself dishonored, ruined, lost; and his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +imagination, assailed by a world of hypotheses, tossed +amongst them like an empty cask borne by the sea +and floating upon the waves.</p> + +<p>Emma, opposite, watched him; she did not share +his humiliation; she felt another—that of having supposed +such a man was worth anything. As if twenty +times already she had not sufficiently perceived his +mediocrity.</p> + +<p>Charles was walking up and down the room; his +boots creaked on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," she said; "you fidget me."</p> + +<p>He sat down again.</p> + +<p>How was it that she—she, who was so intelligent—could +have allowed herself to be deceived +again? and through what deplorable madness had she +thus ruined her life by continual sacrifices? She +recalled all her instincts of luxury, all the privations of +her soul, the sordidness of marriage, of the household, +her dream sinking into the mire like wounded swallows; +all that she had longed for, all that she had +denied herself, all that she might have had! And +for what? for what?</p> + +<p>In the midst of the silence that hung over the village +a heart-rending cry rose on the air. Bovary +turned white to fainting. She knit her brows with a +nervous gesture, then went on. And it was for him, +for this creature, for this man, who understood nothing, +who felt nothing! For he was there quite quiet, +not even suspecting that the ridicule of his name +would henceforth sully hers as well as his. She had +made efforts to love him, and she had repented with +tears for having yielded to another!</p> + +<p>"But it was perhaps a valgus!" suddenly exclaimed +Bovary, who was meditating.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +At the unexpected shock of this phrase falling on +her thought like a leaden bullet on a silver plate, Emma, +shuddering, raised her head in order to find out what +he meant to say; and they looked one at the other in +silence, almost amazed to see each other, so far sundered +were they by their inner thoughts. Charles +gazed at her with the dull look of a drunken man, +while he listened motionless to the last cries of the +sufferer, that followed each other in long-drawn +modulations, broken by sharp spasms like the far-off +howling of some beast being slaughtered. Emma bit +her wan lips, and rolling between her fingers a piece +of coral that she had broken, fixed on Charles the +burning glance of her eyes like two arrows of fire +about to dart forth. Everything in him irritated her +now; his face, his dress, what he did not say, his +whole person, his existence, in fine. She repented of +her past virtue as of a crime, and what still remained +of it crumbled away beneath the furious blows of her +pride. She revelled in all the evil ironies of triumphant +adultery. The memory of her lover came back to her +with dazzling attractions; she threw her whole soul +into it, borne away towards this image with a fresh +enthusiasm; and Charles seemed to her as much removed +from her life, as absent for ever, as impossible +and annihilated, as if he had been about to die and +were passing under her eyes.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of steps on the pavement. +Charles looked up, and through the lowered blinds he +saw at the corner of the market in the broad sunshine +Dr. Canivet, who was wiping his brow with his +handkerchief. Homais, behind him, was carrying a +large red box in his hand, and both were going +towards the chemist's.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +Then with a feeling of sudden tenderness and discouragement +Charles turned to his wife saying to her:</p> + +<p>"Oh, kiss me, my own!"</p> + +<p>"Leave me!" she said, red with anger.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" he asked, stupefied. "Be +calm; compose yourself. You know well enough that +I love you. Come!"</p> + +<p>"Enough!" she cried with a terrible look.</p> + +<p>And escaping from the room, Emma closed the +door so violently that the barometer fell from the wall +and smashed on the floor.</p> + +<p>Charles sank back into his <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chair">armchair</ins> overwhelmed, +trying to discover what could be wrong with her, +fancying some nervous illness, weeping, and vaguely +feeling something fatal and incomprehensible whirling +round him.</p> + +<p>When Rodolphe came to the garden that evening, +he found his mistress waiting for him at the foot of +the steps on the lowest stair. They threw their arms +round one another, and all their rancour melted like +snow beneath the warmth of that kiss.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 120px;"> +<img src="images/i261.jpg" width="120" height="50" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XII.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Preparations_For_Flight" id="Preparations_For_Flight"></a><span class="smcap">Preparations for Flight.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap262"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span><br />HEY began to love one another again. +Often, even in the middle of the +day, Emma suddenly wrote to him, +then from the window made a +sign to Justin, who, taking his apron +off, quickly ran to La Huchette. +Rodolphe would come; she had sent for him to tell +him that she was bored; that her husband was odious, +her life frightful.</p> + +<p>"But what can I do?" he cried one day impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Ah! if you <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: would— without closing quotation marks">would—"</ins></p> + +<p>She was sitting on the floor between his knees, +her hair loose, her look lost.</p> + +<p>"Why, what?" said Rodolphe.</p> + +<p>She sighed.</p> + +<p>"We would go and live elsewhere—somewhere!"</p> + +<p>"You are really mad!" he said laughing. "How +could that be possible?"</p> + +<p>She returned to the subject; he pretended not to +understand, and turned the conversation.</p> + +<p>What he did not understand was all this worry +about so simple an affair as love. She had a motive, +a reason, and, as it were, a pendant to her affection.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +Her tenderness, in fact, grew each day with her +repulsion to her husband. The more she gave up +herself to the one, the more she loathed the other. +Never had Charles seemed to her so disagreeable, to +have such stodgy fingers, such vulgar ways, to be so +dull as when they found themselves together after her +meeting with Rodolphe. Then, while playing the +spouse and virtue, she was burning at the thought of +that head whose black hair fell in a curl over the sunburnt +brow, of that form at once so strong and elegant, +of that man, in a word, who had such +experience in his reasoning, such passion in his desires. +It was for him that she filed her nails with +the care of a chaser, and that there was never enough +cold-cream for her skin, nor of patchouli for her +handkerchiefs. She loaded herself with bracelets, +rings, and necklaces. When he was coming she filled +the two large blue glass vases with roses, and prepared +her room and her person like a courtesan expecting +a prince. The servant had to be constantly +washing linen, and all day Félicité did not stir from +the kitchen, where little Justin, who often kept her +company, watched her at work.</p> + +<p>With his elbows on the long board on which she +was ironing, he greedily watched all these women's +clothes spread out about him, the dimity petticoats, the +fichus, the collars, and the drawers with running +strings, wide at the hips and growing narrower below.</p> + +<p>"What is that for?" asked the young fellow, passing +his hand over the crinoline or the hooks and +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, haven't you ever seen anything?" Félicité +answered laughing. "As if your mistress, Madame +Homais, didn't wear the same."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +"Oh, I daresay! Madame Homais!" And he +added with a meditative air, "As if she were a lady +like madame!"</p> + +<p>But Félicité grew impatient of seeing him hanging +round her. She was six years older than he, and +Théodore, Monsieur Guillaumin's servant, was beginning +to pay court to her.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone," she said, moving her pot of +starch. "You'd better be off and pound almonds; +you are always dangling about women. Before you +meddle with such things, bad boy, wait till you've +got a beard to your chin."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be cross! I'll go and clean her boots."</p> + +<p>And he at once took down from the shelf Emma's +boots, all coated with mud, the mud of the rendezvous, +that crumbled into powder beneath his fingers, +and that he watched as it gently rose in a ray of sunlight.</p> + +<p>"How afraid you are of spoiling them!" said the +servant, who wasn't so particular when she cleaned +them herself, because as soon as the stuff of the boots +was no longer fresh madame handed them over to her.</p> + +<p>Emma had many shoes in her closet that she +wore out one after the other, without Charles allowing +himself the slightest observation. So also he disbursed +three hundred francs for a wooden leg that she +thought proper to make a present of to Hippolyte. +Its top was covered with cork, and it had spring +joints, a complicated mechanism, covered over by +black trousers ending in a patent-leather boot. But +Hippolyte, not daring to use such a handsome leg +every day, begged Madame Bovary to get him another +more convenient one. The doctor, of course, had +again to defray the expense of this purchase.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +So little by little the stable-man took up his work +again. One saw him running about the village as before, +and when Charles heard from afar the sharp +noise of the wooden leg, he at once went in another +direction.</p> + +<p>It was Monsieur Lheureux, the shopkeeper, who +had undertaken the order; this provided him with an +excuse for visiting Emma. He chatted with her about +the new goods from Paris, about a thousand feminine +trifles, made himself very obliging, and never asked +for his money. Emma yielded to this lazy mode of +satisfying all her caprices. Thus she wanted to have +a very handsome riding-whip that was at an umbrella-maker's +at Rouen, to give to Rodolphe. The week +after Monsieur Lheureux placed it on her table.</p> + +<p>But the next day he called on her with a bill for +two hundred and seventy francs, not counting the +centimes. Emma was much embarrassed; all the +drawers of the writing-table were empty; they owed +over a fortnight's wages to Lestiboudois, two quarters +to the servant, for any quantity of other things, and +Bovary was impatiently expecting Monsieur Derozerays' +account, which he was in the habit of paying +him every year about midsummer.</p> + +<p>She succeeded at first in putting off Lheureux. At +last he lost patience; he was being sued; his capital +was out, and unless he got some in he should be +forced to take back all the goods she had received.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well, take them!" said Emma.</p> + +<p>"I was only joking," he replied; "the only thing +I regret is the whip. My word! I'll ask monsieur to +return it to me."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I've got you!" thought Lheureux.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +And, certain of his discovery, he went out repeating +to himself in an undertone, and with his usual +low whistle:</p> + +<p>"Good! we shall see! we shall see!"</p> + +<p>She was thinking how to get out of this when +the servant coming in put on the mantelpiece a small +roll of blue paper "from Monsieur Derozerays." Emma +pounced upon and opened it. It contained fifteen +napoleons; it was the account. She heard Charles on +the stairs; threw the gold to the back of her drawer, +and took out the key.</p> + +<p>Three days after Lheureux reappeared.</p> + +<p>"I have an arrangement to suggest to you," he +said. "If, instead of the sum agreed on, you would +take——"</p> + +<p>"Here it is," she said, placing fourteen napoleons +in his hand.</p> + +<p>The tradesman was astounded. Then, to conceal +his disappointment, he was profuse in apologies and +proffers of service, all of which Emma declined; then +she remained a few moments fingering in the pocket +of her apron the two five-franc pieces that he had +given her in change. She promised herself she would +economise in order to pay back later on. "Pshaw!" +she thought, "he won't think about it again."</p> + +<p class="center">* * *</p> + +<p>Besides the riding-whip with its silver-gilt handle, +Rodolphe had received a seal with the motto <i>Amor nel +cor</i>; furthermore, a scarf for a muffler, and, finally, a +cigar-case exactly like the Viscount's, that Charles +had formerly picked up in the road, and that Emma +had kept. These presents, however, humiliated him; +he refused several; she insisted, and he ended by +obeying, thinking her tyrannical and over-exacting.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +Then she had strange ideas.</p> + +<p>"When midnight strikes," she said, "you must +think of me."</p> + +<p>And if he confessed that he had not thought of +her, there were floods of reproaches that always +ended with the eternal question:</p> + +<p>"Do you love me?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I love you," he answered.</p> + +<p>"A great deal?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly!"</p> + +<p>"You haven't loved any others?"</p> + +<p>"Did you think you'd got a virgin?" he exclaimed +laughing.</p> + +<p>Emma wept, and he tried to console her, adorning +his protestations with puns.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she went on, "I love you! I love you so +that I could not live without you, do you see? +There are times when I long to see you again, when +I am torn by all the anger of love. I ask myself, +where is he? Perhaps he is talking to other women. +They smile upon him; he approaches. Oh no! no +one else pleases you. There are some more beautiful, +but I love you best. I know how to love best. +I am your servant, your concubine! You are my +king, my idol! You are good, you are beautiful, +you are clever, you are strong!"</p> + +<p>He had so often heard these things said that +they did not strike him as original. Emma was +like all his mistresses; and the charm of novelty, +gradually falling away like a garment, laid bare the +eternal monotony of passion, that has always the +same forms and the same language. He did not +distinguish, this man of so much experience, the +difference of sentiment beneath the sameness of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +expression. Because lips libertine and venal had +murmured such words to him, he believed but little +in the candour of hers; exaggerated speeches hiding +mediocre affections must be discounted; as if the +fulness of the soul did not sometimes overflow in +the emptiest metaphors, since no one can ever give +the exact measure of his needs, nor of his conceptions, +nor of his sorrows; and since human speech +is like a cracked tin kettle, on which we hammer +out tunes to make bears dance when we long to +move the stars.</p> + +<p>But with that superior critical judgment that +belongs to him, who, in no matter what circumstance, +holds back, Rodolphe saw other delights +to be got out of this love. He thought all modesty +in the way. He treated her quite <i>sans façon</i>. He +made of her something supple and corrupt. Hers +was an idiotic sort of attachment, full of admiration +for him, of voluptuousness for her, a beatitude that +benumbed her; her soul sank into this drunkenness, +shrivelled up, drowned in it, like Clarence in his +butt of Malmsey.</p> + +<p>By the mere effect of her love Madame Bovary's +manners changed. Her looks grew bolder, her speech +more free; she even committed the impropriety of +walking out with Monsieur Rodolphe, a cigarette in +her mouth, "as if to defy the people." At last those +who still doubted doubted no longer when one day +they saw her getting out of the "Hirondelle" her +waist squeezed into a waistcoat like a man; and +Madame Bovary senior, who, after a fearful scene +with her husband, had taken refuge at her son's, was +not the least scandalised of the women-folk. Many +other things displeased her. First, Charles had not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +attended to her advice about the forbidding of novels; +then the "ways of the house" annoyed her; she +allowed herself to make some remarks, and there +were quarrels, especially one on account of Félicité.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary senior, the evening before, passing +along the passage, had surprised her in company +of a man—a man with a brown collar, about forty +years old, who, at the sound of her step, had quickly +escaped through the kitchen. Then Emma began to +laugh, but the good lady grew angry, declaring that +unless morals were to be laughed at one ought to +look after those of one's servants.</p> + +<p>"Where were you brought up?" asked the daughter-in-law, +with so impertinent a look that Madame +Bovary asked her if she were not perhaps defending +her own case.</p> + +<p>"Leave the room!" said the young woman, +springing up with a bound.</p> + +<p>"Emma! Mamma!" cried Charles, trying to reconcile +them.</p> + +<p>But both had fled in their exasperation. Emma +was stamping her feet as she repeated—</p> + +<p>"Oh! what manners! What a peasant!"</p> + +<p>He ran to his mother; she was beside herself. She +stammered:</p> + +<p>"She is an insolent, giddy-headed thing, or perhaps +worse!"</p> + +<p>And she was for leaving at once if the other did +not apologize.</p> + +<p>So Charles went back again to his wife and implored +her to give way; he knelt to her; she ended +by saying—</p> + +<p>"Very well! I'll go to <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note - the original reads: her. without closing quotation marks">her."</ins></p> + +<p>And in fact she held out her hand to her mother-in-law +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +with the dignity of a marchioness as she +said:</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, madame."</p> + +<p>Then having gone up again to her room, she +threw herself flat on her bed and cried there like a +child, her face buried in the pillow.</p> + +<p>She and Rodolphe had agreed that in the event of +anything extraordinary occurring, she should fasten a +small piece of white paper to the blind, so that if by +chance he happened to be in Yonville, he could hurry +to the lane behind the house. Emma made the signal; +she had been waiting three-quarters of an hour +when she suddenly caught sight of Rodolphe at the +corner of the market. She felt tempted to open the +window and call him, but he had already disappeared. +She fell back in despair.</p> + +<p>Soon, however, it seemed to her that some one +was walking on the pavement. It was he, no doubt. +She went downstairs, crossed the yard. He was +there outside. She threw herself into his arms.</p> + +<p>"Do take care!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Ah! if you knew!" she replied.</p> + +<p>And she began telling him everything, hurriedly, +disjointedly, exaggerating the facts, inventing many, +and so prodigal of parentheses that he understood +nothing of it.</p> + +<p>"Come, my poor angel, courage! Be comforted! +be patient!"</p> + +<p>"But I have been patient; I have suffered for four +years. A love like ours ought to show itself in the +face of heaven. They torture me! I can bear it no +longer! Save me!"</p> + +<p>She clung to Rodolphe. Her eyes, full of tears, +flashed like flames beneath a wave; her breast heaved; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +he had never loved her so much, so that he lost his +head and said:</p> + +<p>"What is it? What do you wish?"</p> + +<p>"Take me away," she cried, "carry me off! Oh, +I entreat you!"</p> + +<p>And she threw herself upon his mouth, as if to +seize there the unexpected consent it breathed forth in +a kiss.</p> + +<p>"But——" Rodolphe resumed.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Your little girl!"</p> + +<p>She reflected a few moments, then replied—</p> + +<p>"We will take her! It can't be helped!"</p> + +<p>"What a woman!" he said to himself, watching +her as she went. For she had run into the garden. +Some one was calling her.</p> + +<p>On the following days Madame Bovary senior was +much surprised at the change in her daughter-in-law. +Emma, in fact, was showing herself more docile, and +even carried her deference so far as to ask for a recipe +for pickling gherkins.</p> + +<p>Was it the better to deceive them both? Or did she +wish by a sort of voluptuous stoicism to feel the +more profoundly the bitterness of the things she was +about to leave?</p> + +<p>But she paid no heed to them; on the contrary, +she lived as if lost in the anticipated delight of her +coming happiness. It was an eternal subject for conversation +with Rodolphe. She leant on his shoulder +murmuring—</p> + +<p>"Ah! when we are in the mail-coach! Do you +think about it? Can it be? It seems to me that the +moment I feel the carriage start, it will be as if we +were rising in a balloon as if we were setting out +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +for the clouds. Do you know that I count the hours? +And you?"</p> + +<p>Never had Madame Bovary been so beautiful as at +this period; she had that indefinable beauty that results +from joy, from enthusiasm, from success, and +that is only the harmony of temperament with circumstances. +Her desires, her sorrows, the experience +of pleasure, and her ever-young illusions, that had, as +soil and rain and winds and the sun make flowers +grow, gradually developed her, and she at length +blossomed forth in all the plenitude of her nature. +Her eyelids seemed chiselled expressly for her long +amorous looks in which the pupil disappeared, while +a strong inspiration expanded her delicate nostrils and +raised the fleshy corner of her lips, shaded in the +light by a little black down. One would have thought +that an artist apt in conception had arranged the +curls of hair upon her neck; they fell in a thick mass, +negligently, and with the changing chances of their +adultery, that unbound them every day. Her voice +now took more mellow inflections, her figure also; +something subtle and penetrating escaped even from +the folds of her gown and from the line of her foot. +Charles, as when they were first married, thought her +delicious and quite irresistible.</p> + +<p>When he came home in the middle of the night, +he did not dare to wake her. The porcelain night-light +threw a round trembling gleam upon the ceiling, +and the drawn curtains of the little cot formed, as it +were, a white hut standing out in the shade, and by +the bedside Charles looked at them. He seemed to +hear the light breathing of his child. She would grow +big now; every season would bring rapid progress. +He already saw her coming from school as the day +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +drew in, laughing, with ink-stains on her jacket, and +carrying her basket on her arm. Then she would +have to be sent to a boarding-school; that would cost +much; how was it to be done? Then he reflected. +He thought of hiring a small farm in the neighborhood, +that he would superintend every morning on +his way to his patients. He would save up what +he brought in; he would put it in the savings-bank. +Then he would buy shares somewhere, no matter +where; besides, his practice would increase; he +counted upon that, for he wanted Berthe to be well-educated, +to be accomplished, to learn to play the +piano. Ah! how pretty she would be later on when +she was fifteen, when, resembling her mother, she +would, like her, wear large straw hats in the summer-time; +from a distance they would be taken for +two sisters. He pictured her to himself working in +the evening by their side beneath the light of the +lamp; she would embroider him slippers; she would +look after the house; she would fill all the home +with her charm and her gaiety. At last, they would +think of her marriage; they would find her some good +young fellow with a steady business; he would make +her happy; this would last for ever.</p> + +<p>Emma was not asleep; she pretended to be; and +while he dozed off by her side she awakened to other +dreams.</p> + +<p>To the gallop of four horses she was carried away +for a week towards a new land, whence they would +return no more. They went on and on, their arms +entwined, without a word. Often from the top of a +mountain there suddenly glimpsed some splendid city +with domes, and bridges, and ships, forests of citron +trees, and cathedrals of white marble, on whose +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +pointed steeples were storks' nests. They went at a +walking-pace because of the great flag-stones, and on +the ground there were bouquets of flowers, offered you +by women dressed in red bodices. They heard the +chiming of bells, the neighing of mules, together with +the murmur of guitars and the noise of fountains, +whose rising spray refreshed heaps of fruit arranged +like a pyramid at the foot of pale statues that smiled +beneath playing waters. And then, one night they +came to a fishing village, where brown nets were +drying in the wind along the cliffs and in front of +the huts. It was there that they would stay; they +would live in a low, flat-roofed house, shaded by a +palm-tree, in the heart of a gulf, by the sea. They +would row in gondolas, swing in hammocks, and +their existence would be easy and large as their silk +gowns, warm and star-spangled as the nights they +would contemplate. However, in the immensity of +this future that she conjured up, nothing special stood +forth; the days, all magnificent, resembled each other +like waves; and it swayed in the horizon, infinite, +harmonized, azure, and bathed in sunshine. But the +child began to cough in her cot or Bovary snored +more loudly, and Emma did not fall asleep till morning, +when the dawn whitened the window, and +when little Justin was already in the square taking +down the shutters of the chemist's shop.</p> + +<p>She had sent for Monsieur Lheureux, and had said +to him—</p> + +<p>"I want a cloak—a large lined cloak with a deep +collar."</p> + +<p>"You are going on a journey?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No; but—never mind. I may count on you, +may I not, and quickly?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +He bowed.</p> + +<p>"Besides, I shall want," she went on, "a trunk—not +too heavy—handy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I understand. About three feet by a +foot and a half, as they are being made just now."</p> + +<p>"And a travelling bag."</p> + +<p>"Decidedly," thought Lheureux, "there's a row +on here."</p> + +<p>"And," said Madame Bovary, taking her watch +from her belt, "take this; you can pay yourself out +of it."</p> + +<p>But the tradesman cried out that she was wrong; +they knew one another; did he doubt her? What +childishness!</p> + +<p>She insisted, however, on his taking at least the +chain, and Lheureux had already put it in his pocket +and was going, when she called him back.</p> + +<p>"You will leave everything at your place. As to +the cloak"—she seemed to be reflecting—"do not +bring it either; you can give me the maker's address, +and tell him to have it ready for me."</p> + +<p>It was the next month that they were to run +away. She was to leave Yonville as if she was going +on some business to Rouen. Rodolphe would +have booked the seats, procured the passports, and +even have written to Paris in order to have the whole +mail-coach reserved for them as far as Marseilles, +where they would buy a carriage, and go on thence +without stopping to Genoa. She would take care to +send her luggage to Lheureux', whence it would be +taken direct to the "Hirondelle," so that no one would +have any suspicion. And in all this there never was +any allusion to the child. Rodolphe avoided speaking +of her; perhaps he no longer thought about it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +He wished to have two more weeks before him to +arrange some affairs; then at the end of a week he +wanted two more; then he said he was ill; next he +went on a journey. The month of August passed, +and, after all these delays, they decided that it was +to be irrevocably fixed for the 4th September—a +Monday.</p> + +<p>At length the Saturday before arrived.</p> + +<p>Rodolphe came in the evening earlier than usual.</p> + +<p>"Everything is ready?" she asked him.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Then they walked round a garden-bed, and went +to sit down near the terrace on the curb-stone of the +wall.</p> + +<p>"You are sad," said Emma.</p> + +<p>"No; why?"</p> + +<p>And yet he looked at her strangely in a tender +fashion.</p> + +<p>"Is it because you are going away?" she went +on; "because you are leaving what is dear to you—your +life? Ah! I understand. I have nothing in the +world! You are all to me; so shall I be to you. I +will be your people, your country; I will tend, I +will love you!"</p> + +<p>"How sweet you are!" he said, seizing her in his +arms.</p> + +<p>"Really!" she said with a voluptuous laugh. +"Do you love me? Swear it then!"</p> + +<p>"Do I love you—love you? I adore you, my +love!"</p> + +<p>The moon, full and purple-colored, was rising +right out of the earth at the end of the meadow. She +rose quickly between the branches of the poplars, that +hid her here and there like a black curtain pierced +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +with holes. Then she appeared dazzling with whiteness +in the empty heavens that she lit up, and now +sailing more slowly along, let fall upon the river a +great stain that broke up into an infinity of stars; and +the silver sheen seemed to writhe through the very +depths like a headless serpent covered with luminous +scales; it also resembled some monster candelabra all +along which sparkled drops of diamonds running together. +The soft night was about them; masses of +shadow filled the branches. Emma, her eyes half-closed, +breathed in with deep sighs the fresh wind +that was blowing. They did not speak, lost as they +were in the rush of their reverie. The tenderness of +the old days came back to their hearts, full and silent +as the flowing river, with the softness of the perfume +of the syringas, and threw across their memories +shadows more immense and more sombre than those +of the still willows that lengthened out over the grass. +Often some night-animal, hedgehog or weasel, setting +out on the hunt, disturbed the lovers, or sometimes +they heard a ripe peach falling all alone from the +espalier.</p> + +<p>"Ah! what a lovely night!" said Rodolphe.</p> + +<p>"We shall have others," replied Emma; and, as if +speaking to herself, "Yes, it will be good to travel. +And yet, why should my heart be so heavy? Is it +dread of the unknown? The effect of habits left? Or +rather——? No; it is the excess of happiness. How +weak I am, am I not? Forgive me!"</p> + +<p>"There is still time!" he cried. "Reflect! perhaps +you may repent!"</p> + +<p>"Never!" she cried impetuously. And coming +closer to him: "What ill could come to me? There is +no desert, no precipice, no ocean I would not traverse +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +with you. The longer we live together the more it +will be like an embrace, every day closer, more heart +to heart. There will be nothing to trouble us, no care, +no obstacle. We shall be alone, all to ourselves eternally. +Oh, speak! Answer me!"</p> + +<p>At regular intervals he answered, "Yes—Yes—" +She had passed her hands through his hair, and she +repeated in a childlike voice, despite the big tears +which were falling, "Rodolphe! Rodolphe! Ah! Rodolphe! +dear little Rodolphe!"</p> + +<p>Midnight struck.</p> + +<p>"Midnight!" said she. "Come! it is to-morrow! +One day more!"</p> + +<p>He rose to go; and as if the movement he made +had been the signal for their flight, Emma said, suddenly, +assuming a gay air—</p> + +<p>"You have the passports?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You are forgetting nothing?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"It is at the Hôtel de Provence, is it not, that +you will wait for me at mid-day?"</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"Till to-morrow then!" said Emma, in a last +caress; and she watched him go.</p> + +<p>He did not turn round. She ran after him, and, +leaning over the water's edge between the bulrushes—</p> + +<p>"To-morrow!" she cried.</p> + +<p>He was already on the other side of the river and +walking fast across the meadow.</p> + +<p>After a few moments Rodolphe stopped; and +when he saw her with her white gown gradually +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +fade away in the shade like a ghost, he was seized +with such a beating of the heart that he leant against +a tree lest he should fall.</p> + +<p>"What an imbecile I am!" he said with a fearful +oath. "No matter! she was a pretty mistress!"</p> + +<p>And immediately Emma's beauty, with all the +pleasures of their love, came back to him. For a +moment he softened; then he rebelled against her.</p> + +<p>"For, after all," he exclaimed gesticulating, "I +can't exile myself—have a child on my hands."</p> + +<p>He was saying these things to give himself firmness.</p> + +<p>"And besides, the worry, the expense! Ah! no, +no, no, no! a thousand times no! It would have +been too stupid."</p> + + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;"> +<img src="images/i279.jpg" width="125" height="70" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XIII.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Deserted" id="Deserted"></a><span class="smcap">Deserted.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap280"><span class="dropcap">N</span></span><br />O SOONER was Rodolphe at home +than he sat down quickly at his +bureau under the stag's head that +hung as a trophy on the wall. +But when he had the pen between +his fingers, he could think of nothing, +so that, resting on his elbows, he began to reflect. +Emma seemed to him to have receded into a +far-off past, as if the resolution he had taken had +suddenly placed a distance between them.</p> + +<p>To get back something of her, he fetched from +the cupboard at the bedside an old Rheims biscuit-box, +in which he usually kept his letters from women, +and from it came an odor of dry dust and withered +roses. First he saw a handkerchief with pale little +spots. It was a handkerchief of hers. Once when +they were walking her nose had bled; he had forgotten +it. Near it, chipped at all the corners, was a miniature +given him by Emma: her toilette seemed to him +pretentious, and her languishing look in the worst +possible taste. Then, from looking at this image and +recalling the memory of its original, Emma's features +little by little grew confused in his remembrance, as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +if the living and the painted face, rubbing one against +the other, had effaced each other. Finally, he read +some of her letters; they were full of explanations relating +to their journey, short, technical, and urgent, +like business notes. He wanted to see the long ones +again, those of old times. In order to find them at +the bottom of the box, Rodolphe disturbed all the +others, and mechanically began <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'rumaging'">rummaging</ins> amidst this +mass of papers and things, finding pell-mell bouquets, +garters, a black mask, pins, and hair—hair! dark and +fair, some even, catching in the hinges of the box, +broke when it was opened.</p> + +<p>Thus dallying with his souvenirs, he examined the +writing and the style of the letters, as varied as their +orthography. They were tender or jovial, facetious, +melancholy; there were some that asked for love, +others that asked for money. A word recalled faces +to him, certain gestures, the sound of a voice; sometimes, +however, he remembered nothing at all.</p> + +<p>In fact, these women, rushing at once into his +thoughts, cramped each other and lessened, as reduced +to a uniform level of love that equalized them all. So +taking handfuls of the mixed-up letters, he amused +himself for some moments with letting them fall in +cascades from his right into his left hand. At last, +bored and weary, Rodolphe took back the box to the +cupboard, saying to himself, "What a lot of rubbish!" +Which summed up his opinion; for pleasures, like +schoolboys in a school courtyard, had so trampled +upon his heart that no green thing grew there, and +that which passed through it, more heedless than +children, did not even, like them, leave a name carved +upon the wall.</p> + +<p>"Come," said he, "let's begin."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +He wrote—</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Courage, Emma! courage! I would not bring +misery into your life."</p> + +<p>"After all, that's true," thought Rodolphe. "I am +acting in her interest; I am honest."</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Have you carefully weighed your resolution? +Do you know to what an abyss I was dragging you, +poor angel? No, you do not, do you? You were +coming confident and fearless, believing in happiness +in the future. Ah! unhappy that we are—insensate!"</p> + +<p>Rodolphe stopped here to think of some good excuse.</p> + +<p>"If I told her all my fortune is lost? No! Besides +that would stop nothing. It would all have to +be begun over again later on. As if one could make +women like that listen to reason!" He reflected, +then went on—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"I shall not forget you, oh! believe it; and I shall +ever have a profound devotion for you; but some day, +sooner or later, this ardour (such is the fate of human +things) would have grown less, no doubt. Lassitude +would have come to us, and who knows if I should +not even have had the atrocious pain of witnessing +your remorse, of sharing it myself, since I should +have been its cause? The mere idea of the grief that +would come to you tortures me, Emma. Forget me! +Why did I ever know you? Why were you so +beautiful? Is it my fault? O my God! No, no! +accuse only fate."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[255]</a></span> +"That's a word that always tells," he said to himself.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Ah! if you had been one of those frivolous +women that one sees, certainly I might, through egotism, +have made an experiment, in that case without +danger for you. But that delicious exaltation, at once +your charm and your torment, has prevented you +from understanding, adorable woman that you are, +the falseness of our future position. Nor had I +reflected upon this at first, and I rested in the shade +of that ideal happiness as beneath that of the manchineel +tree, without foreseeing the consequences."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she'll think I'm giving it up from avarice. +Ah, well! so much the worse; it must be +stopped!"</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"The world is cruel, Emma. Wherever we might +have gone, it would have persecuted us. You would +have had to put up with indiscreet questions, calumny, +contempt, insult, perhaps. Insult to you! Oh! And +I, who would place you on a throne! I who bear +with me your memory as a talisman! For I am going +to punish myself by exile for all the ill I have done you. +I am going away. Whither I know not. I am mad. +Adieu! Be good always. Preserve the memory of +the unfortunate who has lost you. Teach my name +to your child; let her repeat it in her prayers."</p> + +<p>The wicks of the candles flickered. Rodolphe got +up to shut the window, and when he had sat down +again—</p> + +<p>"I think it's all right. Ah! and this for fear she +should come and hunt me up."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> + +<p class="blockquot">"I shall be far away when you read these sad +lines, for I have wished to flee as quickly as possible +to shun the temptation of seeing you again. No +weakness! I shall return, and perhaps later we shall +talk together very coldly of our old love. Adieu!"</p> + +<p>And there was a last 'adieu' divided into two +words: "A Dieu!" which he thought in very excellent +taste.</p> + +<p>"Now how am I to sign?" he said to himself. +"Yours devotedly?' No! 'Your friend?' Yes, +that's it."</p> + +<p class="right blockquot smcap"> +"Your friend."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>He re-read his letter. He considered it very good.</p> + +<p>"Poor little woman!" he thought with emotion. +"She'll think me harder than a rock. There ought to +have been some tears on this; but I can't cry; it +isn't my fault." Then, having emptied some water +into a glass, Rodolphe dipped his finger into it, and +let a big drop fall on the paper, that made a pale +stain on the ink. Then looking for a seal, he came +upon the one "<i>Amor nel cor</i>."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't at all fit in with the circumstances. +Pshaw! never mind!"</p> + +<p>After which he smoked three pipes and went to +bed.</p> + +<p>The next day when he was up (at about two +o'clock—he had slept late), Rodolphe had a basket of +apricots picked. He put his letter at the bottom +under some vine leaves, and at once ordered Girard, +his ploughman, to take it with care to Madame +Bovary. He made use of this means for corresponding +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +with her, sending according to the season fruits +or game.</p> + +<p>"If she asks after me," he said, "you will tell +her that I have gone on a journey. You must give +the basket to her herself, into her own hands. Get +along and take care!"</p> + +<p>Girard put on his new blouse, knotted his handkerchief +round the apricots, and, walking with great +heavy steps in his thick iron-bound galoshes, made +his way to Yonville.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary, when he got to her house was +arranging a bundle of linen on the kitchen-table with +Félicité.</p> + +<p>"Here," said the ploughboy, "is something for +you from master."</p> + +<p>She was seized with apprehension, and as she +sought in her pocket for some coppers, she looked +at the peasant with haggard eyes, while he himself +looked at her with amazement, not understanding how +such a present could so move any one. At last he +went out. Félicité remained. Emma could bear it no +longer; she ran into the sitting-room as if to take the +apricots there, overturned the basket, tore away the +leaves, found the letter, opened it, and, as if some +fearful fire were behind her, she flew to her room +terrified.</p> + +<p>Charles was there; she saw him; he spoke to her; +she heard nothing, and she went on quickly up the +stairs, breathless, distraught, dumb, and ever holding +this horrible piece of paper, that crackled between +her fingers like a plate of sheet-iron. On the second +floor she stopped before the attic-door, that was closed.</p> + +<p>Then she tried to calm herself; she recalled the +letter; she must finish it; she did not dare to. And +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +where? How? She would be seen! "Ah, no! here," +she thought, "I shall be all right."</p> + +<p>Emma pushed open the door and went in.</p> + +<p>The slates threw straight down a heavy heat that +gripped her temples, stifled her; she dragged herself +to the closed garret-window. She drew back the +bolt, and the dazzling light burst in with a leap.</p> + +<p>Opposite, beyond the roofs, stretched the open +country until it was lost to the sight. Underneath +her, the village square was empty; the stones of the +pavement glittered, the weathercocks on the houses +were motionless. At the corner of the street, from a +lower story, rose a kind of humming with strident +modulations. It was Binet turning.</p> + +<p>She leant against the embrasure of the window, and +re-read the letter with angry sneers. But the more +she fixed her attention upon it, the more confused +were her ideas. She saw him again, heard him, encircled +him with her arms, and the throbs of her +heart, that beat against her breast like blows of a +sledge-hammer, grew faster and faster, with uneven +intervals. She looked about her with the wish that +the earth might crumble into pieces. Why not end +it all? What restrained her? She was free. She advanced, +looked at the paving-stones, saying to herself, +"Come! come!"</p> + +<p>The luminous ray that came straight up from below +drew the weight of her body towards the abyss. It +seemed to her that the ground of the oscillating +square went up the walls, and that the floor dipped +on end like a tossing boat. She was right at the +edge, almost hanging, surrounded by vast space. The +blue of the heavens suffused her, the air was whirling +in her hollow head; she had but to yield, to let herself +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +be taken; and the humming of the lathe never +ceased, like an angry voice calling her.</p> + +<p>"Emma! Emma!" cried Charles.</p> + +<p>She stopped.</p> + +<p>"Wherever are you? Come!"</p> + +<p>The thought that she had just escaped from death +almost made her faint with terror. She closed her +eyes; then she shivered at the touch of a hand on her +sleeve; it was Félicité.</p> + +<p>"Master is waiting for you, madame; the soup is +on the table."</p> + +<p>And she had to go down to sit at table.</p> + +<p>She tried to eat. The food choked her. Then +she unfolded her napkin as if to examine the darns, +and she really thought of applying herself to this +work, counting the threads in the linen. Suddenly +the remembrance of the letter returned to her. How +had she lost it? Where could she find it? But she +felt such weariness of spirit that she could not even +invent a pretext for leaving the table. Then she became +a coward; she was afraid of Charles; he knew +all, that was certain! Indeed he pronounced these +words in a strange manner:</p> + +<p>"We are not likely to see Monsieur Rodolphe soon +again, it seems."</p> + +<p>"Who told you?" she said, shuddering.</p> + +<p>"Who told me!" he replied, rather astonished at +her abrupt tone. "Why, Girard, whom I met just +now at the door of the Café-Français. He has gone +on a journey, or is to go."</p> + +<p>She gave a sob.</p> + +<p>"What surprises you in that? He absents himself +like that from time to time for a change, and, +<i>ma foi</i>, I think he's right, when one has a fortune +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +and is a bachelor. Besides, he has jolly times, has +our friend. He's a bit of a rake. Monsieur Langlois +told me—"</p> + +<p>He stopped for propriety's sake because the servant +came in. She put back into the basket the apricots +scattered on the sideboard. Charles, without noticing +his wife's color, had them brought to him, took one, +and bit into it.</p> + +<p>"Ah! perfect!" said he; "just taste!"</p> + +<p>And he handed her the basket, which she put +away from her gently.</p> + +<p>"Do just smell! What an odor!" he remarked, +passing it under her nose several times.</p> + +<p>"I am choking," she cried, leaping up. But by +an effort of will the spasm passed; then—</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," she said, "it is nothing! It is +nervousness. Sit down and go on eating." For she +dreaded lest he should begin questioning her, attending +to her, that she should not be left alone.</p> + +<p>Charles, to obey her, sat down again, and he spat +the stones of the apricots into his hands, afterwards +putting them on his plate.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a blue tilbury passed across the square +at a rapid trot. Emma uttered a cry and fell back +rigid to the ground.</p> + +<p>In fact, Rodolphe, after many reflections, had decided +to set out for Rouen. Now, as from La Huchette +to Buchy there is no other way than by Yonville, he +had to go through the village, and Emma had recognized +him by the rays of the lanterns, which like +lightning flashed through the twilight.</p> + +<p>The chemist, at the tumult which broke out in +the house, ran thither. The table with all the plates +was upset; sauce, meat, knives, the salt, and cruet-stand +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +were strewn over the room; Charles was calling +for help; Berthe, scared, was crying; and Félicité, +whose hands trembled, was unlacing her mistress, +whose whole body shivered convulsively.</p> + +<p>"I'll run to my laboratory for some aromatic vinegar," +said the chemist.</p> + +<p>Then as she opened her eyes on smelling the bottle:</p> + +<p>"I was sure of it," he remarked; "that would +wake any dead person for you!"</p> + +<p>"Speak to us," said Charles; "collect yourself; it +is I—your Charles, who loves you. Do you know +me? See! here is your little girl! Oh, kiss her!"</p> + +<p>The child stretched out her arms to her mother to +cling to her neck. But turning away her head, Emma +said in a broken voice—</p> + +<p>"No, no! no one!"</p> + +<p>She fainted again. They carried her to her bed. +She lay there stretched at full length, her lips apart, +her eyelids closed, her hands open, motionless, and +white as a waxen image. Two streams of tears flowed +from her eyes and fell slowly upon the pillow.</p> + +<p>Charles, standing up, was at the back of the alcove, +and the chemist, near him, maintained that +meditative silence that is becoming on the serious occasions +of life.</p> + +<p>"Do not be uneasy," he said, touching his elbow; +"I think the paroxysm is past."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is resting a little now," answered +Charles, watching her sleep. "Poor girl! poor girl! +She has gone off now!"</p> + +<p>Then Homais asked how the accident had come +about. Charles answered that she had been taken ill +suddenly while she was eating some apricots.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +"Extraordinary!" continued the chemist. "But it +might be that the apricots had brought on the syncope. +Some natures are so sensitive to certain smells; +and it would even be a very fine question to study +both in its pathological and physiological relation. The +priests know the importance of it, they who have introduced +aromatics into all their ceremonies. It is to +stupefy the senses and to bring on ecstasies—a thing, +moreover, very easy in persons of the weaker sex, +who are more delicate than the other. Some are cited +who faint at the smell of burnt hartshorn, of new +bread—"</p> + +<p>"Take care; you'll wake her!" said Bovary in a +low voice.</p> + +<p>"And not only," the chemist went on, "are +human beings subject to such anomalies, but animals +also. Thus you are not ignorant of the singularly +aphrodisiac effect produced by the <i>Nepeta cataria</i>, +vulgarly called cat-mint, on the feline race; and, on +the other hand, to quote an example whose authenticity +I can answer for, Bridaux (one of my old comrades, +at present established in the Rue Malpalu) +possesses a dog that falls into convulsions as soon as +you hold out a snuff-box to him. He often even makes +the experiment before his friends at his summer-house +at Guillaume Wood. Would any one believe that a +simple sternutation could produce such ravages on a +quadrupedal organism? It is extremely curious, is it +not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Charles, who was not listening to +him.</p> + +<p>"This shows us," went on the other, smiling with +benign self-sufficiency, "the innumerable irregularities +of the nervous system. With regard to madame, she +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +has always seemed to me, I confess, very susceptible. +And so I should by no means recommend to you, +my dear friend, any of those so-called remedies that, +under the pretence of attacking the symptoms, attack +the constitution. No; no useless physicking! Diet, +that is all; sedatives, emollients, dulcification. Then, +don't you think that perhaps her imagination should +be worked upon?"</p> + +<p>"In what way? How?" said Bovary.</p> + +<p>"Ah! that is it. Such is indeed the question. +'That is the question,' as I lately read in a newspaper."</p> + +<p>But Emma, awaking, cried out—</p> + +<p>"The letter! the letter!"</p> + +<p>They thought she was delirious; and she was by +midnight. Brain-fever had set in.</p> + +<p>For forty-three days Charles did not leave her. He +gave up all his patients; he no longer went to bed; he +was constantly feeling her pulse, putting on sinapisms +and cold-water compresses. He sent Justin as far as +Neufchâtel for ice; the ice melted on the way; he +sent him back again. He called Monsieur Canivet into +consultation; he sent for Dr. Larivière, his old master, +from Rouen; he was in despair. What alarmed him +most was Emma's prostration, for she did not speak, +did not listen, did not even seem to suffer, as if her +body and soul were both resting together after all +their troubles.</p> + +<p>About the middle of October she could sit up in +bed supported by pillows. Charles wept when he +saw her eat her first bread-and-jelly. Her strength +returned to her; she got up for a few hours of an +afternoon, and one day, when she felt better, he tried +to take her, leaning on his arm, for a walk round the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +garden. The sand of the paths was disappearing beneath +the dead leaves; she walked slowly, dragging +along her slippers, and leaning against Charles's +shoulder. She smiled all the time.</p> + +<p>They went thus to the bottom of the garden near +the terrace. She drew herself up slowly, shading her +eyes with her hand to look. She looked far off, as +far as she could, but on the horizon were only great +bonfires of grass smoking on the hills.</p> + +<p>"You will tire yourself, my darling!" said Bovary. +And pushing her gently to make her go into the arbour, +"Sit down on this seat; you'll be comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Oh! no; not there!" she said in a faltering +voice.</p> + +<p>She was seized with giddiness, and from that +evening her illness recommenced, with a more uncertain +character, it is true, and more complex symptoms. +Now she suffered in her heart, then in the chest, the +head, the limbs; she had vomitings, in which Charles +thought he saw the first signs of cancer.</p> + +<p>And besides this, the poor fellow was worried +about money matters.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 93px;"> +<img src="images/i292.jpg" width="93" height="70" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XIV.</h4> + +<h4><a name="Religious_Fervor" id="Religious_Fervor"></a><span class="smcap">Religious Fervor.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap293"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span><br />O BEGIN with, he did not know +how he could pay Monsieur Homais +for all the physic supplied by him, +and though, as a medical man, he +was not obliged to pay for it, he +nevertheless blushed a little at such +an obligation. Then the expenses of the household, +now that the servant was mistress, became terrible. +Bills rained in upon the house; the tradesmen +grumbled; Monsieur Lheureux especially harassed +him. In fact, at the height of Emma's illness, the +latter, taking advantage of the circumstances to make +his bill larger, had hurriedly brought the cloak, the +travelling-bag, two trunks instead of one, and a number +of other things. It was very well for Charles to +say he did not want them. The tradesman answered +arrogantly that these articles had been ordered, and +that he would not take them back; besides, it would +vex madame in her convalescence; the doctor had +better think it over; in short, he was resolved to sue +him rather than give up his rights and take back his +goods. Charles subsequently ordered them to be sent +back to the shop. Félicité forgot; he had other things +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +to attend to; then thought no more about them. Monsieur +Lheureux returned to the charge, and, by turns +threatening and whining, so managed that Bovary +ended by signing a bill at six months. But hardly +had he signed this bill than a bold idea occurred to +him: it was to borrow a thousand francs from Lheureux. +So, with an embarrassed air, he asked if it +were possible to get them, adding that it would be +for a year, at any interest he wished. Lheureux ran +off to his shop, brought back the money and dictated +another bill, by which Bovary undertook to pay to +his order on the 1st of September next the sum of +one thousand and seventy francs, which, with the +hundred and eighty already agreed to, made just +twelve hundred and fifty, thus lending at six per cent, +in addition to one-fourth for commission; and the +things bringing him in a good third at the least, this +ought in twelve months to give him a profit of a +hundred and thirty francs. He hoped that the business +would not stop there; that the bills would not +be paid; that they would be renewed; and that his +poor little money, having thriven at the doctor's as +at a hospital, would come back to him one day considerably +more plump, and fat enough to burst his bag.</p> + +<p>Everything, moreover, succeeded with him. He +was adjudicator for a supply of cider to the hospital +at Neufchâtel; Monsieur Guillaumin promised him some +shares in the turf-pits of Gaumesnil, and he dreamt of +establishing a new diligence service between Arcueil +and Rouen, which no doubt would not be long in +ruining the ramshackle van of the "Lion d'Or," and +that, travelling faster, at a cheaper rate, and carrying +more luggage, would thus put into his hands the +whole commerce of Yonville.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +Charles several times asked himself by what means +he should next year be able to pay back so much +money. He reflected, imagined expedients, such as +applying to his father or selling something. But his +father would be deaf, and he—he had nothing to sell. +Then he foresaw such worries that he quickly dismissed +so disagreeable a subject of meditation from his mind. +He reproached himself with forgetting Emma, as if, +all his thoughts belonging to this woman, it was +robbing her of something not to be constantly thinking +of her.</p> + +<p>The winter was severe, Madame Bovary's convalescence +slow. When it was fine they wheeled her +<ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chair">armchair</ins> to the window that overlooked the square, +for she now had an antipathy to the garden, and the +blinds on that side were always down. She wished +the horse to be sold; what she formerly liked now +displeased her. All her ideas seemed to be limited to +the care of herself. She stayed in bed taking little +meals, rang for the servant to inquire about her gruel +or to chat with her. The snow on the market-roof +threw a white, still light into the room; then the rain +began to fall; and Emma waited daily with a mind +full of eagerness for the inevitable return of some +trifling events which nevertheless had no relation to +her. The most important was the arrival of the "Hirondelle" +in the evening. Then the landlady shouted +out, and other voices answered, while Hippolyte's +lantern, as he fetched the boxes from the boot, was +like a star in the darkness. At mid-day Charles came +in; then he went out again; next she took some beef-tea, +and towards five o'clock, as the day drew in, +the children coming back from school, dragging their +wooden shoes along the pavement, knocked the clapper +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +of the shutters with their rulers one after the +other.</p> + +<p>It was at this hour that Monsieur Bournisien came +to see her. He inquired after her health, gave her +news, exhorted her to religion in a coaxing little +gossip that was not without its charm. The mere +thought of his cassock comforted her.</p> + +<p>One day, when at the height of her illness, she +had thought herself dying, and had asked for the +communion; and, while they were making the preparations +in her room for the sacrament, while they were +turning the night-table covered with sirups into an +altar, and while Félicité was strewing dahlia flowers +on the floor, Emma felt some power passing over her that +freed her from her pains, from all perception, from all feeling. +Her body, relieved, no longer thought; another life +was beginning; it seemed to her that her being, +mounting toward God, would be annihilated in that +love like a burning incense that melts into vapour. +The bed-clothes were sprinkled with holy water, the +priest drew from the holy pyx the white wafer; and +it was fainting with a celestial joy that she put out +her lips to accept the body of the Saviour presented +to her. The curtains of the alcove floated gently round +her like clouds, and the rays of the two tapers burning +on the night-table seemed to shine like dazzling +halos. Then she let her head fall back, fancying she +heard in space the music of seraphic harps, and perceived +in an azure sky, on a golden throne in the +midst of saints holding green palms, God the Father, +resplendent with majesty, who with a sign sent to +earth angels with wings of fire to carry her away in +their arms.</p> + +<p>This splendid vision dwelt in her memory as the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +most beautiful thing that it was possible to dream, so +that now she strove to recall her sensation, that still +lasted, however, but in a less exclusive fashion and +with a deeper sweetness. Her soul, tortured by pride, +at length found rest in Christian humility, and, tasting +the joy of weakness, she saw within herself the destruction +of her will, that must have left a wide entrance +for the inroads of heavenly grace. There +existed, then, in the place of happiness, still +greater joys,—another love beyond all loves, without +pause and without end, one that would grow eternally! +She saw amid the illusions of her hope a state of +purity floating above the earth mingling with heaven, +to which she aspired. She wanted to become a saint. +She bought chaplets and wore amulets; she wished +to have in her room, by the side of her bed, a reliquary +set in emeralds that she might kiss it every +evening.</p> + +<p>The curé marvelled at this humour, although +Emma's religion, he thought, might, from its fervour, +end by touching on heresy, extravagance. But not +being much versed in these matters, as soon as they +went beyond a certain limit he wrote to Monsieur +Boulard, bookseller to Monsignor, to send him "something +good for a lady who was very clever." The +bookseller, with as much indifference as if he had +been sending off hardware to niggers, packed up, pell-mell, +everything that was then the fashion in the +pious book trade. There were little manuals in questions +and answers, pamphlets of aggressive tone after +the manner of Monsieur de Maistre, and certain novels +in rose-coloured bindings and with a honied style, +manufactured by troubadour seminarists or penitent +blue-stockings. There were the "Think of it; the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +Man of the World at Mary's Feet, by Monsieur de +* * *, <i>décoré</i> with many Orders;" "The Errors of +Voltaire, for the Use of the Young," &c.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary's mind was not yet sufficiently +clear to apply herself seriously to anything; moreover, +she began this reading in too much hurry. She +grew provoked at the doctrines of religion; the arrogance +of the polemic writings displeased her by their +inveteracy in attacking people she did not know; +and the secular stories, relieved with religion, seemed +to her written in such ignorance of the world, that +they insensibly estranged her from the truths for +whose proof she was looking. Nevertheless, she +persevered; and when the volume slipped from her +hands, she fancied herself seized with the finest Catholic +melancholy that an ethereal soul could conceive.</p> + +<p>As for the memory of Rodolphe, she had thrust it +back to the bottom of her heart, and it remained there +more solemn and more motionless than a king's +mummy in a catacomb. An exhalation escaped from +this embalmed love, that, penetrating through everything, +perfumed with tenderness the immaculate +atmosphere in which she longed to live. When she +knelt on her Gothic prie-Dieu, she addressed to the +Lord the same suave words that she had murmured +formerly to her lover in the outpourings of adultery. +It was to make faith come; but no delights descended +from the heavens, and she arose with tired limbs and +with a vague feeling of a gigantic dupery.</p> + +<p>This searching after faith, she thought, was only +one merit the more, and in the pride of her devoutness +Emma compared herself to those grand ladies of +long ago whose glory she had dreamed of over a +portrait of La Vallière, and who, trailing with so +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +much majesty the lace-trimmed trains of their long +gowns, retired into solitudes to shed at the feet of +Christ all the tears of hearts that life had wounded.</p> + +<p>Then she gave herself up to excessive charity. She +sewed clothes for the poor, she sent wood to women +in childbed; and Charles one day, on coming home, +found three good-for-nothings in the kitchen seated at +the table eating soup. She had her little girl, whom +during her illness her husband had sent back to the +nurse, brought home. She wanted to teach her to +read; even when Berthe cried, she was not vexed. +She had made up her mind to resignation, to universal +indulgence. Her language about everything was +full of ideal expressions. She said to her child, "Is +your stomach-ache better, my angel?"</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary senior found nothing to censure +except perhaps this mania of knitting jackets for orphans +instead of mending her own house-linen; but, +harassed with domestic quarrels, the good woman +took pleasure in this quiet house, and she even staid +there till after Easter, to escape the sarcasms of old +Bovary, who never failed on Good Friday to order +chitterlings.</p> + +<p>Besides the companionship of her mother-in-law, +who strengthened her a little by the rectitude of her +judgment and her grave ways, Emma almost every +day had other visitors. These were Madame Langlois, +Madame Caron, Madame Dubreuil, Madame Tuvache, +and regularly from two to five o'clock the excellent +Madame Homais, who, for her part, had never believed +any of the tittle-tattle about her neighbor. The +little Homais also came to see her; Justin accompanied +them. He went up with them to her <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: bed-room">bedroom</ins>, +and remained standing near the door, motionless and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +mute. Often even Madame Bovary, taking no heed +of him, began her toilette. She began by taking out +her comb, shaking her head with a quick movement, +and when he for the first time saw all this mass of +hair that fell to her knees unrolling in black ringlets, +it was to him, poor child! like a sudden entrance into +something new and strange, whose splendour terrified +him.</p> + +<p>Emma, no doubt, did not notice his silent attentions +or his timidity. She had no suspicion that the +love vanished from her life was there, palpitating by +her side, beneath that coarse holland shirt, in that +youthful heart open to the emanations of her beauty. +Besides, she now enveloped all things with such indifference, +she had words so affectionate with looks +so haughty, such contradictory ways, that one could +no longer distinguish egotism from charity, or corruption +from virtue. One evening, for example, she +was angry with the servant, who had asked to go +out, and stammered as she tried to find some pretext. +Then suddenly—</p> + +<p>"So you love him?" she said.</p> + +<p>And without waiting for any answer from Félicité, +who was blushing, she added, "There! run along; +enjoy yourself!"</p> + +<p>In the beginning of spring she had the garden +turned up from end to end, despite Bovary's remonstrances. +However, he was glad to see her at last +manifest a wish of any kind. As she grew stronger +she displayed more wilfulness. First, she found occasion +to expel Mère Rollet, the nurse, who during her +convalescence had contracted the habit of coming too +often to the kitchen with her two nurslings and her +boarder, better off for teeth than a cannibal. Then +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +she got rid of the Homais family, successively dismissed +all the other visitors, and even frequented +church less assiduously, to the great approval of the +chemist, who said to her in a friendly way—</p> + +<p>"You were going in a bit for the cassock!"</p> + +<p>As formerly, Monsieur Bournisien dropped in every +day when he came out after catechism class. He +preferred staying out of doors to taking the air "in +the grove," as he called the arbour. This was the +time when Charles came home. They were hot; +some sweet cider was brought out, and they drank +together to madame's complete restoration.</p> + +<p>Binet was there; that is to say, a little lower +down against the terrace wall, fishing for cray-fish. +Bovary invited him to have a drink, and he thoroughly +understood the uncorking of the stone bottles.</p> + +<p>"You must," he said, throwing a satisfied glance +all round him, even to the very extremity of the landscape, +"hold the bottle perpendicularly on the table, +and after the strings are cut, press up the cork with +little thrusts, gently, gently, as indeed they do seltzer-water +at restaurants."</p> + +<p>But during his demonstration the cider often +spurted right into their faces, and then the ecclesiastic, +with a thick laugh, never missed this joke—</p> + +<p>"It's goodness strikes the eye!"</p> + +<p>He was, in fact, a good fellow, and one day he +was not even scandalised at the chemist, who advised +Charles to give madame some distraction by taking +her to the theatre at Rouen to hear the illustrious +tenor, Lagardy. Homais, surprised at this silence, +wanted to know his opinion, and the priest declared +that he considered music less dangerous for morals +than literature.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +But the chemist took up the defence of letters. +The theatre, he contended, served for railing at prejudices, +and, beneath a mask of pleasure, taught virtue.</p> + +<p>"<i>Castigat ridendo mores</i>, Monsieur Bournisien! +Thus, consider the greater part of Voltaire's tragedies; +they are cleverly strewn with philosophical reflections, +that make them a very school of morals and diplomacy +for the people."</p> + +<p>"I," said Binet, "once saw a piece called the +'Gamin de Paris,' in which there was the character +of an old general that is really hit off to a +T. He sets down a young swell who had seduced +a working girl, who at the end——"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," continued Homais, "there is bad +literature as there is bad pharmacy, but to condemn +in a lump the most important of the fine arts seems +to me a stupidity, a Gothic idea, worthy of the +abominable times that imprisoned Galileo."</p> + +<p>"I know very well," objected the curé, "that +there are good works, good authors. However, if it +were only those persons of different sexes together in +a bewitching apartment, decorated with worldly +pomp, and then, those pagan disguises, that rouge, +those lights, those effeminate voices, all this must, in +the long run, engender a certain mental libertinage, +give rise to immodest thoughts, and impure temptations. +Such, at any rate, is the opinion of all the +Fathers. Finally," he added, suddenly assuming a +mystic tone of voice, while he rolled a pinch of +snuff between his fingers, "if the Church has condemned +the theatre, she must be right; we must +submit to her decrees."</p> + +<p>"Why," asked the chemist, "should she excommunicate +actors? For formerly they openly took part +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +in religious ceremonies. Yes, in the middle of the +chancel they acted; they performed a kind of farce +called 'Mysteries,' which often offended against the +laws of decency."</p> + +<p>The ecclesiastic contented himself with uttering a +groan, and the chemist went on—</p> + +<p>"It's just as it is in the Bible; for there, you know, +are more than one piquant detail, matters really +libidinous!"</p> + +<p>And on a gesture of irritation from Monsieur +Bournisien—</p> + +<p>"Ah! you'll admit that it is not a book to place +in the hands of a young girl, and I should be sorry +if Athalie——"</p> + +<p>"But it is the Protestants, and not we," cried the +other impatiently, "who recommend the Bible."</p> + +<p>"No matter," said Homais. "I am surprised that +in our days, in this century of enlightenment, any +one should still persist in proscribing an intellectual +relaxation that is inoffensive, moralising, and sometimes +even hygienic; is it not, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt," replied the doctor carelessly, either +because, sharing the same ideas, he wished to offend +no one, or else because he had not any ideas.</p> + +<p>The conversation seemed at an end when the +chemist thought fit to shoot a Parthian arrow.</p> + +<p>"I've known priests who put on ordinary clothes +to go and see dancers kicking about."</p> + +<p>"Come, come!" said the curé.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I've known some!" And separating the +words of his sentence, Homais repeated, "I—have—known—some!"</p> + +<p>"Well, they did wrong," said Bournisien, resigned +to anything.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +"By Jove! they go in for more than that," exclaimed +the chemist.</p> + +<p>"Sir!" replied the ecclesiastic, with such angry +eyes that Homais was intimidated by them.</p> + +<p>"I only mean to say," he replied in less brutal a +tone, "that toleration is the surest way to draw people +to religion."</p> + +<p>"That is true! that is true!" agreed the good fellow, +sitting down again on his chair. But he stayed +only a few moments.</p> + +<p>Then, as soon as he had gone, Monsieur Homais +said to the doctor—</p> + +<p>"That's what I call a cock-fight. I beat him, did +you see, in a way!—Now take my advice. Take +madame to the theatre, if it were only for once in +your life, to enrage one of these ravens, hang it! If +any one could take my place, I would accompany you +myself. Be quick about it. Lagardy is only going to +give one performance; he's engaged to go to England +at a high salary. From what I hear, he's a regular +dog; he's rolling in money; he's taking three mistresses +and a cook along with him. All these great artists +burn the candle at both ends; they require a dissolute +life, that stirs the imagination to some extent. But +they die at the hospital, because they haven't the +sense when young to lay by. Well, a pleasant dinner! +Good-bye till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The idea of the theatre quickly germinated in Bovary's +head, for he at once communicated it to his wife, who +at first refused, alleging the fatigue, the worry, the +expense; but, for a wonder, Charles did not give in, +so sure was he that this recreation would be good for +her. He saw nothing to prevent it: his mother had +sent them three hundred francs which he had no +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +longer expected; the current debts were not very +large, and the falling in of Lheureux's bills was still so far +off that there was no need to think about them. Besides, +imagining that she was refusing from delicacy, +he insisted the more; so that by dint of worrying her +she at last made up her mind, and the next day at +eight o'clock they set out in the "Hirondelle."</p> + +<p>The chemist, whom nothing whatever kept at +Yonville, but who thought himself bound not to budge +from it, sighed as he saw them go.</p> + +<p>"Well, a pleasant journey!" he said to them; +"happy mortals that you are!"</p> + +<p>Then addressing himself to Emma, who was wearing +a blue silk gown with four flounces—</p> + +<p>"You are as lovely as a Venus. You'll cut a figure +at Rouen."</p> + +<p>The diligence stopped at the "Croix-Rouge" in +the Place Beauvoisine. It was the inn that is in every +provincial faubourg, with large stables and small bedrooms, +where one sees in the middle of the court +chickens pilfering the oats under the muddy gigs of +the commercial travellers;—a good old house with +worm-eaten balconies that creak in the wind on +winter nights, always full of people, noise, and feeding, +whose black tables are sticky with coffee and +brandy, the thick windows made yellow by the flies, +the damp napkins stained with cheap wine, and that +always smells of the village, like ploughboys dressed +in Sunday-clothes, has a café on the street, and +towards the country-side a kitchen-garden. Charles at +once set out. He muddled up the stage-boxes with +the gallery, the pit with the boxes; asked for explanations, +did not understand them; was sent from +the box-office to the acting-manager; came back to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +the inn, returned to the theatre, and thus several +times traversed the whole length of the town from +the theatre to the boulevard.</p> + +<p>Madame Bovary bought a bonnet, gloves, and a +bouquet. The doctor was much afraid of missing the +beginning, and, without having had time to swallow +a plate of soup, they presented themselves at the doors +of the theatre, which were still closed.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 113px;"> +<img src="images/i306.jpg" width="113" height="70" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XV.</h4> + +<h4><a name="A_New_Delight" id="A_New_Delight"></a><span class="smcap">A New Delight.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="dropcap307"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span><br />HE crowd was waiting against the +wall, symmetrically enclosed between +the balustrades. At the corner +of the neighbouring streets huge +bills repeated in quaint letters +"Lucia de Lammermoor—Lagardy—Opera—&c." +The weather was fine, the people +were hot, perspiration trickled amid the curls, and +handkerchiefs taken from pockets were mopping red +foreheads; and now and again a warm wind that +blew from the river gently stirred the border of the +tick awnings hanging from the doors of the public-houses. +A little lower down, however, one was refreshed +by a current of icy air that smelt of tallow, +leather, and oil. This was an exhalation from the +Rue des Charrettes, full of large black ware-houses +where they make casks.</p> + +<p>For fear of seeming ridiculous, Emma before going +in wished to have a little stroll in the harbour, +and Bovary prudently kept his tickets in his hand, in +the pocket of his trousers, which he pressed against +his stomach.</p> + +<p>Her heart began to beat as soon as she reached +the vestibule. She involuntarily smiled with vanity +on seeing the crowd rushing to the right by the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +other corridor while she went up the staircase to the +reserved seats. She was as pleased as a child to push +with her finger the large tapestried door. She +breathed in with all her might the dusty smell of the +lobbies, and when she was seated in her box she +bent forward with the air of a duchess.</p> + +<p>The theatre was beginning to fill; opera-glasses +were taken from their cases, and the subscribers, +catching sight of one another, were bowing. They +came to seek relaxation in the fine arts after the +anxieties of business; but "business" was not forgotten; +they still talked cotton, spirits of wine, or indigo. +The heads of old men were to be seen, inexpressive +and peaceful, with their hair and complexions looking +like silver medals tarnished by steam of lead. The +young beaux were strutting about in the pit, showing +in the opening of their waistcoats their pink or apple-green +cravats, and Madame Bovary from above admired +them leaning on their canes with golden knobs +in the open palm of their yellow gloves.</p> + +<p>Now the lights of the orchestra were lit, the lustre, +let down from the ceiling, throwing by the glimmering +of its facets a sudden gaiety over the theatre; +then the musicians came in one after the other; and +first there was the protracted hubbub of the basses +grumbling, violins squeaking, cornets trumpeting, flutes +and flageolets fifing. But three knocks were heard on +the stage, a rolling of drums began, the brass instruments +played some chords, and the curtain rising, +discovered a country-scene.</p> + +<p>It was the cross-roads of a wood, with a fountain +shaded by an oak to the left. Peasants and lords +with plaids on their shoulders were singing a hunting-song +together; then a captain suddenly came on, who +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +evoked the spirit of evil by lifting both his arms to +heaven. Another appeared; they went away, and the +hunters started afresh.</p> + +<p>She felt herself transported to the reading of her +youth, into the midst of Walter Scott. She seemed +to hear through the mist the sound of the Scotch +bagpipes re-echoing over the heather. Then her remembrance +of the novel helping her to understand +the libretto, she followed the story phrase by phrase, +while vague thoughts that came back to her dispersed +at once again with the bursts of music. She gave +herself up to the lullaby of the melodies, and felt all +her being vibrate as if the violin bows were drawn +over her nerves. She had not eyes enough to look +at the costumes, the scenery, the actors, the painted +trees that shook when any one walked, and the velvet +caps, cloaks, swords—all those imaginary things +that floated amid the harmony as in the atmosphere +of another world. But a young woman stepped forward, +throwing a purse to a squire in green. She +was left alone, and the flute was heard like the murmur +of a fountain or the warbling of birds. Lucia +attacked her cavatina in G major bravely. She plained +of love; she longed for wings. Emma too, fleeing +from life, would have liked to fly away in an embrace. +Suddenly Edgar-Lagardy appeared.</p> + +<p>He had that splendid pallor that gives something +of the majesty of marble to the ardent races of the +South. His vigorous form was tightly clad in a brown-coloured +doublet; a small chiselled poniard hung against +his left thigh, and he cast around laughing looks showing +his white teeth. They said that a Polish princess +having heard him sing one night on the beach at +Biarritz, where he mended boats, had fallen in love +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +with him. She had ruined herself for him. He had +deserted her for other women, and this sentimental +celebrity did not fail to enhance his artistic reputation. +The diplomatic mummer took care always to slip into +his advertisements some poetic phrase on the fascination +of his person and the susceptibility of his soul. +A fine organ, imperturbable coolness, more temperament +than intelligence, more power of emphasis than +of real singing, made up the charm of this admirable, +charlatan nature, in which there was something of the +hairdresser and the toréador.</p> + +<p>From the first scene he evoked enthusiasm. He +pressed Lucia in his arms, he left her, he came back, +he seemed desperate; he had outbursts of rage, then +elegiac gurglings of infinite sweetness, and the notes +escaped from his bare neck full of sobs and kisses. +Emma leant forward to see him, clutching the velvet +of the box with her nails. She was filling her heart +with these melodious lamentations that were drawn +out to the accompaniment of the double-basses, like +the cries of the drowning in the tumult of a tempest. +She recognized all the intoxication and the anguish +that had almost killed her. The voice of the prima +donna seemed to her to be but echoes of her conscience, +and this illusion that charmed her as some +very thing of her own life. But no one on earth had +loved her with such love. He had not wept like Edgar +that last moonlit night when they said, "To-morrow! +to-morrow!" The theatre rang with cheers; +they recommenced the entire movement; the lovers +spoke of the flowers on their tomb, of vows, exile, +fate, hopes; and when they uttered the final adieu, +Emma gave a sharp cry that mingled with the vibrations +of the last chords.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +"But why," asked Bovary, "does that gentleman +persecute her?"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she answered; "he is her lover!"</p> + +<p>"Yet he vows vengeance on her family, while the +other one who came on before said, 'I love Lucia and +she loves me!' Besides, he went off with her father +arm in arm. For he certainly is her father, isn't he—the +ugly little man with a cock's feather in his +hat?"</p> + +<p>Despite Emma's explanations, as soon as the recitative +duet began in which Gilbert lays bare his abominable +machinations to his master Ashton, Charles, seeing +the false troth-ring that is to deceive Lucia, thought +it was a love-gift sent by Edgar. He confessed, moreover, +that he did not understand the story because +of the music, which interfered very much with the +words.</p> + +<p>"What does it matter?" said Emma. "Do be +quiet!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you know," he went on, leaning +against her shoulder, "I like to understand things."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet! be quiet!" she cried impatiently.</p> + +<p>Lucia advanced, half supported by her women, a +wreath of orange blossoms in her hair, and paler than +the white satin of her gown. Emma dreamed of her +marriage-day; she saw herself at home again amid the +corn in the little path as they walked to the church. +Oh, why had not she, like this woman, resisted, implored? +She, on the contrary, had been joyous, without +seeing the abyss into which she was throwing +herself. Ah! if in the freshness of her beauty, before +the soiling of marriage and the disillusions of adultery, +she could have anchored her life upon some great, +strong heart, then virtue, tenderness, voluptuousness, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +and duty blending, she would never have fallen from +so high a happiness. But that happiness, no doubt, +was a lie invented for the despair of all desire. She +now knew the smallness of the passions that art exaggerated. +So, striving to divert her thoughts, Emma +determined now to see in this reproduction of her +sorrows only a plastic fantasy, well enough to please +the eye, and she even smiled internally with disdainful +pity when at the back of the stage under the velvet +hangings a man appeared in a black cloak.</p> + +<p>His large Spanish hat fell at a gesture he made, +and immediately the instruments and the singers began +the sextet. Edgar, flashing with fury, dominated +all the others with his clearer voice; Ashton hurled +homicidal provocations at him in deep notes; Lucia, +uttered her shrill plaint, Arthur, at one side, his +modulated tones in the middle register, and the bass +of the minister pealed forth like an organ, while the +voices of the women repeating his words took them +up in chorus delightfully. They were all in a row +gesticulating, and anger, vengeance, jealousy, terror, +and stupefaction breathed forth at once from their +half-opened mouths. The outraged lover brandished +his naked sword; his guipure ruffle rose with jerks +to the movements of his chest, and he walked from +right to left with long strides, clanking against the +boards the silver-gilt spurs of his soft boots, widening +out at the ankles. He, she thought, must have an +inexhaustible love to lavish it upon the crowd with +such effusion. All her small fault-findings faded before +the poetry of the part that absorbed her; and, +drawn towards this man by the illusion of the character, +she tried to imagine to herself his life—that life +resonant, extraordinary, splendid, and that might have +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +been hers if fate had willed it. They would have +known one another, loved one another. With him, +through all the kingdoms of Europe she would have +travelled from capital to capital, sharing his fatigues +and his pride, picking up the flowers thrown to him, +herself embroidering his costumes. Then each evening, +at the back of a box, behind the golden trellis-work, +she would have drunk in eagerly the expansions +of this soul that would have sung for her alone; from +the stage, even as he acted he would have looked at +her. But the mad idea seized her that he was looking +at her; it was certain. She longed to run to his +arms, to take refuge in his strength, as in the incarnation +of love itself, and to say to him, to cry out, +"Take me away! carry me with you! let us go! +Thine, thine! all my ardour and all my dreams!"</p> + +<p>The curtain fell.</p> + +<p>The smell of the gas mingled with that of the +breaths, the waving of the fans, made the air more +suffocating. Emma wanted to go out; the crowd +filled the corridors, and she fell back in her <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note -- the original reads: arm-chair">armchair</ins> +with palpitations that choked her. Charles, fearing +that she would faint, ran to the refreshment-room to +get a glass of barley-water.</p> + +<p>He had great difficulty in getting back to his seat, +for his elbows were jerked at every step because of +the glass he held in his hands, and he even spilt +three-fourths on the shoulders of a Rouen lady in +short sleeves, who feeling the cold liquid running +down to her loins, uttered cries like a peacock, as if +she were being assassinated. Her husband, who was +a mill-owner, railed at the clumsy fellow, and while +she was with her handkerchief wiping up the stains +from her handsome cherry-coloured taffeta gown, he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +angrily muttered about indemnity, costs, reimbursement. +At last Charles reached his wife, saying to her, +quite out of breath:</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi!</i> I thought I should have had to stay +there. There is such a crowd—<i>such</i> a crowd!"</p> + +<p>He added—</p> + +<p>"Just guess whom I met up there! Monsieur +Léon!"</p> + +<p>"Léon?"</p> + +<p>"Himself! He's coming along to pay his respects." +And as he finished these words the ex-clerk +of Yonville entered the box.</p> + +<p>He held out his hand with the ease of a gentleman; +and Madame Bovary extended hers, without +doubt obeying the attraction of a stronger will. She +had not felt it since that spring evening when the +rain fell upon the green leaves, and they had said +good-bye standing at the window. But soon recalling +herself to the necessities of the situation, with an +effort she shook off the torpor of her memories, and +began stammering a few hurried words.</p> + +<p>"Ah, good-day! What! you here?"</p> + +<p>"Silence!" cried a voice from the pit, for the third +act was beginning.</p> + +<p>"So you are at Rouen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And since when?"</p> + +<p>"Turn them out! turn them out!" People were +looking at them. They were silent.</p> + +<p>But from that moment she listened no more; and +the chorus of the guests, the scene between Ashton +and his servant, the grand duet in D major, all were +for her as far off as if the instruments had grown less +sonorous and the characters more remote. She +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +remembered the games at cards at the chemist's, and +the walk to the nurse's, the reading in the arbour, +<i>tête-à-tête</i> by the fireside—all that poor love, so calm +and so protracted, so discreet, so tender and that she +had nevertheless forgotten. And why had he come +back? What combination of circumstances had +brought him back into her life. He was standing +behind her, leaning with his shoulder against the +wall of the box; now and again she felt herself shuddering +beneath the hot breath from his nostrils falling +upon her hair.</p> + +<p>"Does this amuse you?" he said, bending over +her so closely that the end of his moustache brushed +her cheek. She replied carelessly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me, no, not much."</p> + +<p>Then he proposed that they should leave the +theatre and go and take an ice somewhere.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not yet; let us stay," said Bovary. "Her +hair's undone; this is going to be tragic."</p> + +<p>But the mad scene did not at all interest Emma, +and the acting of the singer seemed to her exaggerated.</p> + +<p>"She screams too loud," said she, turning to +Charles, who was listening.</p> + +<p>"Yes—perhaps—a little," he replied, undecided +between the frankness of his pleasure and his respect +for his wife's opinion.</p> + +<p>Then with a sigh Léon said:</p> + +<p>"The heat is—"</p> + +<p>"Unbearable! Yes!"</p> + +<p>"Do you feel unwell?" asked Bovary.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am stifling; let us go."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Léon put her long lace shawl carefully +about her shoulders, and all three went off to sit +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +down in the harbour, in the open air, outside the +windows of a café.</p> + +<p>First they spoke of her illness, although Emma +interrupted Charles from time to time, for fear, she +said, of boring Monsieur Léon; and the latter told +them that he had come to spend two years at Rouen +in a large office, in order to get practice in his profession, +which was different in Normandy and Paris. +Then he inquired after Berthe, the Homais, Mère +Lefrançois, and as they had, in the husband's presence, +nothing more to say to one another, the conversation +soon came to an end.</p> + +<p>People coming out of the theatre passed along the +pavement, humming or shouting at the top of their +voices, "<i>O bel ange, ma Lucie!</i>" Then Léon playing +the dilettante, began to talk music. He had seen Tamburini, +Rubini, Persiani, Grisi, and compared with +them, Lagardy, despite his grand outbursts, was +nowhere.</p> + +<p>"Yet," interrupted Charles, who was slowly +sipping his rum-sherbet, "they say that he is quite +admirable in the last act. I regret leaving before the +end, because it was beginning to amuse me."</p> + +<p>"Why," said the clerk, "he will soon give another +performance."</p> + +<p>But Charles replied that they were going back +next day.</p> + +<p>"Unless," he added, turning to his wife, "you +would like to stay alone, pussy?"</p> + +<p>And changing his tactics at this unexpected opportunity +that presented itself to his hopes, the young +man sang the praises of Lagardy in the last number. +It was really superb, sublime. Then Charles +insisted—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +"You would get back on Sunday. Come, make +up your mind. You are wrong not to stay if you +feel that this is doing you the least good."</p> + +<p>The tables round them, however, were <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note - the original reads 'emptying:' with a colon">emptying</ins>; +a waiter came and stood discreetly near them. +Charles, who understood, took out his purse; the +clerk held back his arm, and did not forget to leave +two more pieces of silver that he made chink on the +marble.</p> + +<p>"I am really sorry," said Bovary, "about the +money which you are——"</p> + +<p>The other made a careless gesture full of cordiality, +and taking his hat said—</p> + +<p>"It is settled, isn't it? To-morrow, at six o'clock?"</p> + +<p>Charles explained once more that he could not +absent himself longer, but that nothing prevented +Emma——</p> + +<p>"But," she stammered, with a strange smile, "I +am not sure——"</p> + +<p>"Well, you must think it over. We'll see. Night +brings counsel." Then to Léon, who was walking +along with them, "Now that you are in our part of +the world, I hope you'll come and ask us for some +dinner now and then."</p> + +<p>The clerk declared he would not fail to do so, +being obliged, moreover, to go to Yonville on some +business for his office. And they parted before the +Saint-Herbland Passage just as the cathedral struck +half-past eleven.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 129px;"> +<img src="images/i317.jpg" width="129" height="65" alt="decorative" title="decorative" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<pre> +End of Madame Bovary, Vol. 1 by Gustave Flaubert +</pre> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Bovary, Volume 1 (of 2) +by Gustave Flaubert + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME BOVARY *** + +***** This file should be named 27575-h.htm or 27575-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/5/7/27575/ + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Henry Craig and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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