CHAPTERONE

FailureandSuccess

TheolderMonsieurBovary,MonsieurCharlesDenisBartholomeBovary,hadbeenagood-lookingmanwhenyounger,withabigmoustacheandringsonhis fingers. He was not, however, an impressive man, and although he woreexpensiveclothes,healwayslookedlikeanuncomfortablemixtureofamilitaryman and a cheap shopkeeper. His good looks and ability to sell himself did,nevertheless,winhimawifewithagoodincome.Afterhewassafelymarried,helivedfortwoorthreeyearsonhermoney.Heateanddrankwell,andspenthisdayslyinginbedtillmidday,smokinghispipeandnevercominghometillthetheatresandcafesclosed.

When his father-in-law died, the old man left very little money to hisdaughter.Disappointed,MonsieurBovarytriedtostartatextilebusiness,butlostalotofmoneyandfinallyretiredintothecountrywiththeideaofshowingthepeopletherehowtorunafarm.However,heknewaslittleaboutagricultureashedidabout textiles.Herodehishorses insteadofmaking themwork,ate thefattestchickensinsteadofsellingthem,andcleanedhisshooting-bootswithhisownbest bacon-fat.He soon discovered that he had little chance ofmaking afortune.

AroundthistimehefoundaplaceonthebordersofCauxandPicardy,halffarm,halfprivatehouse,whichhecouldrentfortwohundredfrancsayear.Hetookitandthere,anangry,disappointedman,atwarwiththerestoftheworld,heshuthimselfupat theageof forty-five.Hesaid thathewasdisgustedwithotherpeopleandwantedonlytolivebyhimself.

At the beginning, hiswife had lovedhimabove all others, but this onlyseemedtoaddtohisdislikeoftheworldandheneverhadakindwordforher.Shehadbeencheerful,kind-heartedandfriendly,butasshegrewolder, in thesamewaythatgoodwineturnsintovinegar,shebecamebad-temperedandbadcompany.Shewasahardworker, though,unlikeherhusband.Shewasalwaysonherfeet,alwaysbusy,hurryingtoseethelawyers,knowingexactlywhenthenext bills had to be paid. Indoors shewas alwaysworking: sewing, washing,keepinganeyeon themenandpaying themtheirwages.Her lordandmaster,payingnoattentiontowhatwasgoingonaroundhim,satsmokingbythefire.

When the firstMadameBovary had a child, it became the centre of herworld.Thechild'sfather,however,wouldhavebeenhappytolethimgowithoutshoes.Hesaid that itwouldbemorenaturalnot togivehimclothesandto lethimrunaroundlikeayounganimal.Incontrasttohiswife'sideas,hethoughtaboywouldgrowup to be a betterman if heundressed in the cold, learned todrink alcohol and laughed at thevillagepriest.The child, a gentle little thing,madelittleprogressinthiskindofeducation.Hismotheralwayskepthimclosetoher;shecutoutpicturesforhimfromthenewspaperandmadeupcountlessstories. In loving her son, shewas looking for something tomake up for thelonelinessofherlife.Shedreamedhewouldbefamous.Shecouldseehimasatall,handsome,cleverman,highupinthegovernmentservice.Shetaughthimtoread,andtosing-whilesheplayedonheroldpiano.MonsieurBovarysaidthiswasallawasteoftime.Howweretheyevergoingtoaffordtoeducatehimforagovernment job,orhelphimstart inbusiness?MadameBovarybither lipanddid not arguewith her husband, and the childwas allowed to runwild in thevillage.

Hewentaroundwiththefarmworkers,scaredthebirdsbythrowingstonesatthem,lookedforwildfruit,helpedinthefields,wanderedthroughthewoodsandplayedwithotherchildren.OnSaints'days,hehelpedringthebells inthechurch,andhelovedtohangontothebigropeandfeelhimselfcarriedupasitroseintheair.Andhegrewasstrongasayoungoaktree,withbighandsandredcheeks.

Whenhereachedtheageoftwelve,hismothermanagedtoarrangeforhimto begin his studies with the priest, but the lessons were so short and badlyorganizedthattheydidnotdohimmuchgood.Sometimesitwouldbehotandthechildwouldgrowtired,andbeforelongtheoldmanwouldbesleepingwithhismouthwideopen.AtothertimesthepriestwouldseeCharlesplayingwithhisfriendsandwouldcallhimovertotesthisLatinverbs.Butthen,perhaps,itwould begin to rain, or someone they knew would come along, and lessonswould be over for that day. The priest always had a goodword for his pupil,though,andsaidthattheyoungmanhadaverygoodmemory.

By the time young Charles was thirteen, even his father saw thatsomething must be done, and Charles left his unhappy home to spend threeunhappyyearsintheCollegeatRouen.Hewrotetohismothereveryweek;hedid his homework.He never did verywell in his studies, but he never failedaltogether. At the end of three years, his mother took him away from the

College,withtheplanthatheshouldstudymedicine.

Shegothimaroomonthefourthfloorofahouseoverlookingalittleriver.Shemadearrangementsforhismeals,foundsomebitsoffurniture-atableandacoupleofchairsandanoldbed-andmadesuretherewasplentyoffirewoodtokeepherpoorboywarm.Afteraweekofpreparationsshewentbackhome,askinghimoverandoveragaintolookafterhimselfandtostudyhard.

The list of lectureswhichhe readat thebeginningof the termmadehisheadspin.Therewerelecturesonsubjectshehadneverheardof,withnameshecould not even pronounce. He listened as hard as he could, but he could notunderstandwhat the lecturerswere talking about.However, he attended everylectureandfillednotebookafternotebook.Hegotthroughhisworklikeahorsethatisusedtoturnamill-wheel,goingroundandroundinthesameplacewithhiseyescovered,neverknowingwhathewasdoingorwherehewasgoing.

Charlesfailedhismedicalexaminationsthefirsttime-thecoursewastoodifficult forhim.Buthismotherstillbelieved inhim,andmadehisfatherpayforonemoreyear.ThistimeCharlesmanagedtopassandhismotherbegantoplan again. First hemust have somewhere to work, and then hemust have awife.

ThefirstproblemwassolvedwhentheolddoctorinTostes,asmalltownnearRouen,died.Charlesbecamethenextdoctor.Thenhismotherfounda45-year-old widow in Dieppe, with an income of twelve hundred francs a year.Though she was ugly and bad-tempered (and twenty-five years older thanCharles), her income made her attractive and Charles thought the marriagewouldmakehislifebetter.Hethoughthewouldnowhavefreedomandmoneytospend.Hewaswrong.Hiswifewasincharge.Shetoldhimwhattosay,andwhat not to say. She opened his letters, watched his movements and, whenwomenpatientswereinthesurgery,shelistenedfromthenextroom.Atnight,whenCharlescametobed,sheputherlongbonyarmsroundhisneckandtoldhimallhertroubles.Hedidnotloveher,helovedsomeoneelse.Yes,sheknewshewouldalwaysbeunhappy.Andshealwaysendedbyaskinghimfor somemedicine-andforalittlemorelove.

CHAPTERTWO

MademoiselleEmma

Onenight,CharlesreceivedaletteraskinghimtocomeatoncetoafarmatLesBertauxwherethefarmerhadbrokenhisleg.Thenightwasdarkandthefarm was twenty-five kilometres away, but the farmer was a rich man andCharleswasstillbuildinguphisbusiness.Soatfouro'clockinthemorning,DrBovarysetout.Achildwaswaitingatanopengateasheapproachedthefarm.

'Areyouthedoctor?'heasked.

AsCharlesrodealong,helearnedfromtheboythatMonsieurRouaulthadbroken his leg the night before.He also learned that he had lost hiswife twoyears ago, andhadnoonewithhimnowexcept forhis daughter,who lookedafterthehouseforhim.

MademoiselleEmma,thefarmer'sdaughter,cametothedoorandshowedhimintothekitchen.Afirewasburningandthemen'sdinnerwascookinginbigpolished pans. Charleswent upstairs to see the farmer. The broken legwas asimple problem and Charles asked the servant and the young woman to helpwith thepatient.As they tiedup the farmer's leg,Charleswassurprised toseehowwhitehernailswere.Herhands, however,werenotbeautiful - perhaps alittletoored.Sheherselfwastootall,andshedidnothavethekindofsoftfigureCharlesliked.Hergoodpointwashereyes.Theyweredark,almostblack,andshelookedatyouhonestlyandfearlessly.

Assoonashehadfinishedlookingafterhispatient,thedoctorwasinvitedbyMonsieur Rouault to eat before he left. Charles went down into the roombelow,wheretwoplaceshadbeenlaidwithshiningsilveronasmalltableandMademoiselleEmmawaswaitingforhim.Asmellofflowersandcleanclothescamefromacupboardoppositethewindowandonthefloor,inthecorner,stoodafewbagsofwheat.SomeonehadhungadrawingofaGreekgodinthemiddleofoneofthewalls.Itwasinanattractiveframe,andwrittenatthebottomwerethewords'TomydearFather'.

TheybeganbytalkingaboutMonsieurRouault,andwentontodiscussthe

weatherandthecoldwinter.MademoiselleEmmadidnotlikethecountryverymuch, especially now she had almost all the responsibility of the farmon hershoulders.

WhenCharles,whohadbeenupstairstosaygoodbyetothefarmer,camebackintothediningroom,hefoundherstandingbythewindowlookingoutintothegarden.Sheturnedround.

'Areyoulookingforsomething?'sheasked.

'Yes,I'mtryingtofindmyriding-whip,'hereplied,andhebeganto lookbehindthedoorsandunderthechairs.

MademoiselleEmmafounditbetweenthebagsofwheatandthewall,andCharleswent over to help.As he bent down, he felt the youngwoman's backrubbingagainsthischest.Shestoodup,blushing,and, lookingathimoverhershoulder,handedhimhiswhip.

InsteadofgoingbacktoLesBertauxthreedayslater,ashesaidhewould,hereturnedthenextday,andhethenwenttothefarmtwiceaweek.Afterforty-sixdays,MonsieurRouaultcouldmovearoundwithouthelp,andpeoplebeganto say what an excellent doctorMonsieur Bovary was. Pere Rouault said theverybestdoctorsinYvetotorRouenitselfcouldnothavetreatedhimbetter.

CharlesdidnotaskhimselfwhyhelikedgoingtoLesBertaux.Ifhehadthoughtaboutithewouldhavesaidtohimselfthatitwasaseriouscase,orheexpectedtoearnagoodfee.Butwasthatreallythereasonwhythesevisitstothefarmweresopleasant?Ondayswhenhewasvisiting,hegotupearlyandrodetothefarmasquicklyashecould,onlystoppingtocleanhisbootsandtoputonhisblackglovesbeforegoingintothehouse.Helikedtorideintotheyard,andsee the farmboysas theycame forward tomeethim.He liked thehouse, andMonsieurRouault,whoheldhishandandsaidhehadsavedhislife;helikedthesound ofMademoiselleEmma'swooden shoes on the clean stone floor of thekitchen.

Whenheleft,shealwayscamewithhimtothetopofthesteps,andwouldwaitwithhimuntiltheboysbroughthishorse.Oneday,attheendofthewinter,it started to rain as he was leaving the house. She went back inside for anumbrellaandput itup. Itwasa silkone, and it caught the sunlight, reflectinglittlecolouredpatchesoflightontothewhitenessofherskin.Shesmiledathim,

andyoucouldhearthesoundoftheraindropsastheyfell,onebyone,ontothetightsurfaceofthesilk.

WhenCharlesfirstbeganhisvisitstoLesBertaux,hiswifealwaysaskedabouthispatient.Butwhenshe learned that the farmer'sdaughterhadbeen toschool and had learned dancing, geography and drawing, and could play thepiano, her interest changed to anger and dislike. At first shemade unfriendlyremarksaboutMademoiselleRouault,butCharlesignoredthembecausehedidnotwant an argument.So at last she toldhim tohis facewhat she thoughtofhim,andhedidnotknowwhattoreply.WhydidhekeepgoingtoLesBertaux?MonsieurRouaultwaswellagainnowandhehadnotpaidhisbill.Ah,sheknewall about it! There was someone else there, someonewhowas a good talker,someonewhowaswell educated and clever.Thatwaswhat he liked - young,prettyladies!

SoCharlesagreedtostophisvisitstoLesBertaux,butnowthathecouldnot see Mademoiselle Emma he decided he could love her. His wife was sounattractive, just skin and bone. She wore the same black clothes and graystockings,thesameuglyshoesallyearround.Soifhecouldnotseethefarmer'sdaughteranymore,hewoulddreamofher!

Thisunhappysituationlastedforseveralmonthsuntil,onefinedayintheearlyspring,thelawyerwhohadlookedafterMadameBovary'saffairslefttownwith all his clients'money. She still had a share in a ship thatwasworth sixthousand francs, and her house in Dieppe, but there was nothing left of thatfortuneshehadbeensoproudof.

Andwhenherfinancialaffairswerelookedintomorecarefully,Charles'sfather foundout that thehouse inDieppewasmortgagedandher share in thevesselwasnotworthmorethantwohundredfrancs.Shehadlied,thegoodlady!MonsieurBovaryseniorwassoangrythathetookupachairandsmasheditonthestonefloor,andhetoldhiswifeshehadruinedhersonbymakinghimmarryanoldwomanlikethat.TheycametoTostestotellCharles'srichwifewhattheythought of her.Therewas a terrible argument.Heloise beggedher husband todefendheragainsthisparents,andCharlesdidhisbest,buttheoldpeoplewerestillangrywhentheyleftthehouse.

The damage had been done. A week later, as she was hanging out thewashingintheyard,HeloiseBovaryfoundthatshewasspittingblood.Thenext

day,whileCharleshadhisbacktoher,openingthecurtains,shecriedout, 'OhGod!'andfelltothefloor.Shewasdead!Howamazing!

Whenthefuneralwasover,Charlesreturnedtothehouse.Hewentupintothebedroomandsawherdresshangingupatthefootofthebed.Hestayedthereuntilitwasdark,lostinsorrowfulthought.Afterall,perhapsshehadlovedhim.

CHAPTERTHREE

ANewWife

OnemorningPereRouaultcametopayCharlesforhis treatment,and tosay how sorry he was to hear about his wife's death. Seeing how unhappyCharleslooked,hesaid,'Youmustmakeaneffort,MonsieurBovary;youwillbehappyagainoneday.Comeandseeus.Mydaughterasksaboutyouandsaysthatyouareforgettingher.Springwillsoonbehere.Comeandshootarabbitortwo!'

Charles took his advice. He went back to Les Bertaux, and foundeverythingtherejustthesameasbefore.Theappletreeswerealreadyinflower,andPereRouaultdidhisbesttomakethedoctorfeelcomfortable.Heeventoldhimafewstories,andCharleswassurprisedtofindhimselflaughing.Whenherememberedhiswifehebecameseriousagain,butthenthecoffeecameinandhethoughtnomoreabouther.

Backhome,healso thoughtofher lessand lessashegotused to livingalone.Hewas freenowtohavehismealswhenhe liked,hecouldgooutandcome inwithout having to give explanations, andwhen hewas very tired hecould stretchouthis armsand legs inbedas far ashe liked.Hegavehimselflittletreats,lethimselffeelself-pityandletpeoplebenicetohim.Moreover,hiswife's deathhadbeen rathergood forhimprofessionallybecause, for awholemonth,peoplehadbeensaying,'Pooryoungman!Whatbadluck!'Sohisnamehadbeenheardandhispracticehad increasedandhecouldgo toLesBertauxwheneverhewantedto.Hewasstrangelyhappyand, lookingathimself in themirrorashebrushedhismoustache,hethoughthehadbecomebetter-looking.

Hearrivedatthefarmonedayataboutthreeo'clockwheneveryonewasout in the fields.Hewent into thekitchen,butdidnot seeEmmaat first.Thesunlightshoneonthekitchenfloorinlongnarrowbars,reflectingontheceiling.Fliesonthetablecrawleduptheglassesthathadnotbeenwashed,ordrownedintheciderinthebottomofajug.BetweenthewindowandthefireplaceEmmasatsewing.Shehadnoscarfaroundherneck,andhecouldseethefinehairsonhershoulders.

Likeallcountrypeople,sheofferedhimadrink.Hesaidnoatfirst,butatlast,withalaugh,shepersuadedhimtohaveaglasswithher.Shewenttothecupboard and brought out the bottle, took down two small glasses, filled one,pouredtwoorthreedropsintotheotherand,tappingitagainstthedoctor's,putittoherlips.Asitwasnearlyempty,sheleanedbacktodrinkand,withherheadback,shebegantolaughbecauseshecouldnottasteanything.Atthesametime,shetriedtocatchsomeofthedropsfromthebottomoftheglasswiththetipofhertongue.

Thenshesatdownandtookupherworkagain-awhitecottonsockwhichshewasrepairing.Sheworkedwithherheadbentforward.Shedidnottalk,nordidCharles.Ashewatchedher,theonlysoundhecouldhearwastheexcitementofahenthathadlaidaneggintheyardoutside.

Aftersometime,Emmastartedtotalktohim.Shehadbeencomplainingeversincethespringaboutfeelingdizzy;shewonderedwhetherbathingintheseawould do her any good. She began to talk about her convent school, andCharles about his college days. They went upstairs to her room, where sheshowedhimheroldmusicbooksandtheprizesshehadwon.Andshewentonto speakofhermother, andevenpointedout thebed in thegardenwhere shegatheredflowersonthefirstFridayineverymonth,tolayonhermothersgrave.Shesaidshewouldliketoliveintowninthewinter,althoughperhapsthelongdaysmadethecountryevenmoreboringinthesummer;andaccordingtowhatshewassaying,hervoicewasclearandstrong,musicaloralmostawhisper,asifshewerespeakingtoherself.

That night, as he was riding home, Charles thought about the differentthings she had said, trying to remember them exactly to discover what theymeant, so that hemight understand how her life had been before hemet her.Thenhebegantowonderhowshewouldbecomeifshemarried-andwhomshewouldmarry.Unfortunately,oldRouaultwasapparentlyverywealthy,andsheherself...sobeautiful!Butthethoughtkeptcomingtohim:'Thedoctorwantsawife.Yes,thedoctorwantsawife.'

Thatnighthecouldnotsleep.Hegotup,tookadrinkfromthewater-jugand opened his window. The sky was filled with stars, a warm breeze wasblowing and, a long way off, some dogs were barking. He turned his headtowards Les Bertaux. Thinking that, after all, he had nothing to lose by it,Charlesmadeuphismindtoaskhertomarryhim.Buteverytimehewasalone

with her, the fear of being unable to find the right words left him unable tospeak.

InfactPereRouaultwouldhavebeenhappytoseehisdaughtermarried,especially as she was very little use in the house. He made excuses for her,telling himself that she had toomuch intelligence for the farming life.When,therefore,henoticed thatCharlesblushedeach timehewasnearhisdaughter,and that theyoungmanwasclearly interested inher,hegave themattersomethought.AlthoughCharleswasnotthesortofmanhewouldhavechosenforason-in-law,hewaswelleducatedandahardworker,andwouldnotaskhimfortoomuchmoneytotakehisdaughteroffhishands.Thismattered,asMonsieurRouault had debtswithmost of his suppliers and had just had to sell a largeamountofland.

'Ifheasksme,'hesaidtohimself,'hecanhaveher.'

A little later,Charlescame tospend threedaysatLesBertaux.The timewentquickly,andheneverseemedtofindtherightmomenttospeak.Ashewasleaving,MonsieurRouaultcameouttoseehimonhisway.Theyhadreachedabend in the road and were preparing to say goodbye. It was now or never.Charles gave himself until the corner of the field and at last, when they hadpassedit,hesaid,almostinawhisper, 'MonsieurRouault, thereissomethingIwanttosaytoyou.'

Theystopped.Charlescouldnotspeak.

'Comeonthen,outwithit!DoyouthinkIdon'tknowwhatit'sallabout?'saidthefarmer,laughingquietly.

'PereRouault...PereRouault...'

'Well,'thefarmerwenton,'there'snothingIwouldlikebetter.But,thoughIamsuremylittlegirlwillagree,wemustputthequestiontoher.Yougoon;I'llgobacktothefarm.Ifit'syes,there'llbenoneedforyoutocomeback...She'llneed some time to get used to the idea!But so you can be sure, I'll open thewindowinthefrontbedroom.You'llbeabletoseeitfromthebackhere.'

Andwiththesewordshereturnedtothehouse.

Charlestiedhishorsetoatree.Hehurriedbacktotakeuphisposition,and

waited.Halfanhourwentby,thennineteenmoreminutes,whichhetimedbyhiswatch.Suddenlysomethingbangedagainstthewall.Thewindowwasopen.Shehadacceptedhim!

Next day, by nine o'clock, he was at the farm. Emma blushedwhen hecamein,but triedtolaughalittle, too.PereRouault tookhisson-in-lawinhisarms.Thentheybegantotalkaboutthearrangements.Theyhadplentyoftimebeforethem,sincetheweddingcouldnottakeplaceuntilatleasttwelvemonthsafterthedeathofCharles'sfirstwife,andthatmeantthespringofthefollowingyear.

Theweddingdinnerwasagrandaffair.Forty-threepeoplesatdownatthetableandremainedthereforsixteenhours,andthepartywhichfollowedwentonforseveraldays.Formostoftheguestsitwasaweddingtoremember.Theonlyperson who did not enter the spirit of things seemed to be Madame Bovarysenior,whosatthroughthewholeeventwithasourlookonherface.Noonehadaskedheraboutthebride'sdress,orthearrangementsfortheparty.Shewenttobedearly.Herhusband,however,didnotfollowher,butsent intoSaint-Victorfor cigars. He sat with the men and smoked until the morning, drinking andlaughinguntilthesunrose.

Onthedayofthewedding,Charleshadnotbeenagreatsuccess;hewasneither a confident speaker nor a great teller of jokes. Next day, however, heseemedadifferentman.WhileEmmadidnotgivethesmallestideaofwhatshethoughtaboutitall,Charleswascompletelychanged.Hecalledherhiswife,hisdear,keptaskingwhereshewas,lookedforhereverywhereandfrequentlytookheroutintotheyard,wherehewasseenamongthetreeswithhisarmroundherwaist.

Twodaysafterthewedding,thenewlymarriedcoupleleft.Charlescouldnotbeawayfromhispracticeanylonger.MonsieurRouaultsentthemhomeinhiscarriage,andwentwiththemhimselfasfarasVassonville.Therehekissedhis daughter goodbye, and started for home again on foot.Whenhehadgoneaboutahundredmetreshestoppedandlookedbackatthecarriagedisappearingdowntheroad.Thenhethoughtofhisownwedding.LikeCharles,he,too,hadbeenhappywhenhetookhiswifefromherfather'shouse,backtohisown.Shehadriddenbehindhimthroughthesnow;itwasnearChristmasandthecountryallwhite.One of her arms held on to him, and over the other she carried herbasket.Whenheturnedhisheadhesawclosebyhim,justabovehisshoulder,

herlittlesmilingface.Towarmherfingersshehadpushedthem,fromtimetotime,insidehisjacket.Howfarawayitseemednow.Helookedbackagain,andtherewasnothingtobeseenalongtheroad.Hefeltassadasanemptyhouse.

MonsieurandMadameCharlesarrivedatTostesataboutsixo'clock.Theneighbourscametotheirwindowstotakealookat thedoctor'snewwife.Theoldservantcametomeetthemandmadeexcusesforthedinnernotbeingready,andsuggested that, for themoment,Madameshouldcome inand lookaroundthehouse.

CHAPTERFOUR

TwoWorlds

Thefrontofthehouselookedstraightontothestreet.Hangingupbehindthefrontdoorwerethedoctor'scoat,abelt,ablackleathercapand,onthefloorinthecorner,apairofbootscoveredwithdriedmud.Totherightwasthesittingroom,wheremealswerealsoeaten.Whitecottoncurtainswitharedborderwerehungalongthewindows,andabovethefireplacetherewasasplendidclockandaheadofHippocrates.OntheothersideofthepassagewasCharles'sconsultingroom,alittleboxofaplaceabouttwometreswidewithatable,threeordinarychairsandonearmchair.Asetofbooks,theDictionaryofMedicalScience,tookup almost all the six shelves of the bookcase; they had been owned bymanyearlierdoctors inTostes,butnever read.The smellof cookingwouldcome inthroughthethinwallduringconsultations,andanyoneinthekitchencouldhearthepatientscoughingandtalkingtothedoctorasclearlyasiftheywereintheroom.

Thelong,narrowgardenrandowntothefields.Fruittreesgrewalongthestone walls and four flower beds, planted with weak-looking roses, were setaroundasquareareawhichwasusedforvegetables.Atthefarend,undersomelowtrees,therewasasmallwhitestatueofapriestreadingaprayerbook.

Emmawentuptoseethebedrooms.Therewasnofurnitureinthefirstonebut the second, their bedroom, contained their new bed with its red curtains.Therewasaboxmadeofseashellsonachestofdrawersandonthedesk,bythewindow, stood a glass bottle with a bunch of dried flowers tied with whiteribbon. Theywere the flowers from his firstwife'swedding. Charles saw herlookingatthem,andtookthemoutoftheroom.Sittinginanarmchair,whilehermaidunpackedherthings,Emmathoughtaboutherownweddingflowers,lyinginoneof theboxes,andshewonderedwhatwouldhappento themifshediedyoung.

Charleswasahappymannow.Inbedinthemorning,withherheadonthepillow beside him, he would look at the sunlight on her cheek and at herbeautifuleyeswhenshewoke.Hecouldlosehimselfinthoseeyes,lookingintothem until he saw a tiny picture of himself, his nightcap on his head and the

collarofhisshirtopen.Assoonashewasupanddressed,shewouldgotothewindow to see him start his day. Down in the street below, Charles wouldprepare to get on to his horse while she went on talking to him from above.Sometimes shemight find a feather and send it floating through the air to becaught in the longhair onhis oldwhite horse's neck.Ashe rodeoff,Charleswouldblowherakissandshewouldwavebacktohim.

Itwas thefirst time inhis life thathehad tastedsuchhappiness.Hehadbeen lonelyandfriendlessat schoolandwhenhewasstudyingmedicine.Andthenhehadhadfourteenmonthsofmarriedlifewiththewidow,whosefeet,inbed,werelikelumpsofice.Butnowthislovelywomanwashisforlife!

Before she married, Emma too had thought she was in love, but thehappinessthatshouldhavecomefromlovewassomehowmissing.Itseemedtoherthatshemusthavemadeamistake,musthavemisunderstoodthingsinoneway or another. And as she stood by her bedroom window, morning aftermorning, Emma tried hard to understand what, exactly, the words joy, love,desiremeant.Theyhadalwaysseemedsobeautifultoherinbooks,butwhatdidtheymeaninreallife?

Novelshadalwaysseemedmorereal toher than the lifeshehad to live.When she was at her convent school, a teacher sometimes secretly lent suchbookstotheoldergirls.Theywereallaboutlove,lovers,beautifulgirls,ladiesindanger,horsesriddentilltheydroppeddead,darkforests,tearsandkisses,andgentlemen as brave as lions.When shewas fifteen, Emma read theworks ofWalterScottfor thefirst timeandfoundshewashappier in this imaginedpastthanherratherboringpresent;thecharactersshereadaboutinthesebooksweremuchmoreinterestingthantheteachersandstudentsshesawaroundher.

Shehadfeltathrilleachtimesheblewbackthethinpaperwhichprotectedthepictures.Shesawyoungmenholdingyoungwomeninwhitedressesintheirarms, or English ladies with golden hair, who looked at you with big, brighteyes.Inherreadingshewasabletolistentothesoundofheavenlymusicandoffallingleaves.Later,afterhermotherdied,sheevenfellinlovewiththechurchandthoughtofstayingintheconvent,ofnevergoingoutintotheworld.Butinherlastyearofschool,shebegantoloseherinterestinreligion.Whenherfathertookheraway,herteacherswerenotsorrytoseehergo.Shehad,theythought,stoppedshowinganyrespectfortheircommunity.

On her return home, Emma tried to find an interest in managing herfather'shouse,butshesoongrewtiredofthecountryandwishedherselfbackinherconvent.WhenCharlescametoLesBertauxforthefirsttime,shethoughtofherselfasadisappointedwoman,one forwhomlifehadnothingnew tooffer,eitherinknowledgeorexperience.Maybeherwishforachange-possibly,too,the unrest caused by the presence of an unknownman - had been enough tomakeherbelievethatshewasatlastinlove.Butnowshecouldnotbelievethatherpresentstatewasthehappinessshehaddreamedabout.

Nevertheless,shesometimesthoughtthatthesewere,infact,thehappiestdaysofherlife.Ofcourse,itwouldhavebeensomuchbetteriftheycouldhavegone far away to lands whose names fall like music on the ear, where theweddingsof lovers are followedbymorningsof softdelight andwhere,whenthesungoesdown,youbreathe,sittingbesidethesea,thesweetperfumeofthelemon trees.Why did her bedroom window not look out on to the Swiss orScottishmountains?Whydidherhusbandnot standbesideher in ablack silkjacket,thewindblowinghislonghairbackfromhispale,whiteforehead?

ButCharlescouldnot read these thoughts,andwasnotable toshareherdreams,andastheirlivesbecamecloserEmma,infact,begantohaveasecretfeelingofdistancefromherhusband.Charles'sconversationwasuninterestingtoher.HetoldherthatwhenhelivedinRouenheneverhadthesmallestdesiretogotothetheatre.Hecouldnotswim,hehadnoideaofhowtouseasword,hecouldnotfireagun.Heknewnothing,andhewantednothing.Hethoughtshewashappy,andhisheavy,comfortablehappinesshadbeguntoannoyher.

AfewweeksaftertheycametoTostes,oneofCharles'spatientspresentedMadamewithalittleItalianhuntingdog.Shetookitwithherforwalks,becausesheusedtogooutsometimesjusttogetafewmomentstoherselfandtoenjoyachangefromthegardenandthedustyroad.

Shewould go as far as thewoods near Banneville, along by the emptysummerhouseattheendofthewall,towardstheopencountry.There,atthesideofthelake,theplantsgrewhigherthanamanandhadleavesassharpasknives.Sitting at the edge of the wood among the pink and blue wild flowers, herthoughtswouldwanderhereandthere,likeherdog,whichranfromoneplacetothenextchasingthebirdsandinsects.Butinthesamewaythatherdogalwayscamebacktoher,shealwayscamebacktothesamequestion:'MyGod,whydidImarryhim?'

ShewouldthencallDjali(thenameshehadgivenherdog)tocometoherand,strokingherlong,gracefulhead,wouldsay,'Come,kissyourmistress;youhavenoworries,haveyou?'

Thenshewouldlookintothecreature'sbeautiful,sadeyes,andafeelingoftendernesswouldcomeoverher.Pretendingtheanimalwasherself,shewouldtalktoheraloudasifshewerecomfortingsomeone.

TowardstheendofSeptember,however,anextraordinaryeventhappenedin her life: she was invited to La Vaubyessard, the home of the Marquisd'Andervilliers. The Marquis, who had been a Minister in the nationalgovernment,wantedtogetbackintopolitics,andhewasnowdoinghisbesttomakehimselfpopular.During thewintermonthshehadgiven firewood to thepoor,andhewasalways thefirst todemandnewroadsforhisdistrict.Duringthesummer,hehadhadapainfulmouthinfection,whichCharleshadmanagedtocurebefore itbecame really serious.Theservantwhowassent toTostes topayforthetreatmenttoldhismaster,whenhegotback,thathehadseensomesplendidcherries in thedoctor's littlegarden.CherriesdidnotgrowwellatLaVaubyessard,andtheMarquisaskedBovaryto lethimhaveafewbaskets.Hethendecidedtocomeinpersontothankthedoctor,sawEmma,andnotedthatshehadaprettyfigureandgoodmanners.Afterthis,theMarquisdecidedthathewouldnotharmhischancesinthecomingvoteifhesent theyoungpeopleaninvitationtohishouse.

And so, oneWednesdayat threeo'clock,Monsieur andMadameBovaryset off in their carriage to La Vaubyessard, with a big travelling bag tied onbehind,andahatboxfixedinfront.Theyarrivedwhenitwasgettingdark,justas the lampswere being lit in the park to guide the carriages.TheChateau laVaubyessard, a largebuilding in sixteenth-century style, stood in the centreofparkland.Astreamflowedbetweentalltreesandbeneathabridge,andthroughtheeveningmisttheycouldseecottagesandfarmbuildings.Charlesstoppedthecarriageat the footof the steps leadingup to the frontdoor, and two servantscamedowntotaketheirbags.ThentheMarquiscameforwardand,offeringhisarmtothedoctor'slady,walkedwithherintothehall.

Underthehighceiling,theirvoicesandfootstepssoundedasiftheywerein a church.As shepassed throughonherway to themain room,Emma sawlarge,darkpaintingsoftheMarquis'srelatives,someintheclothesoftheroyalcourt,othersintheuniformsofarmyornavyofficers.WhentheMarquisopened

thedoorforthem,oneoftheladiesrose(itwastheMarquiseherself)andcameforward towelcomeEmma.Shemadeher sitdownbesideherona lowchair,andbegantochatwithher,asifshehadknownherforalongtime.

Atseveno'clockdinnerwasserved.Themenwereseatedatthefirsttable,inthehall,theladiesatthesecond,inthediningroom,withtheMarquisandtheMarquise. At the long dining tables, the glasses were filled with icedchampagne.Emmafeltathrillgothroughherasshetastedthecoldnessofitinhermouth.Shehadneverseensomeofthefruitthattheyhadonthetable,andeventhesugarseemedwhiterhere,andmorefinelypowdered,thanelsewhere.

Afterdinner, therewasdancing.Moreguestswerearrivingandtheroomfilledwithpeople.Emmasatdownnear thedoorandwatchedthementalkingandsmokingcigarsinsmallgroupsintheirblackandwhiteeveningdress,astheservantsmovedamongthemcarryingdrinksandmoresmall,delicatethingstoeat.Allalongtherowsofseatedwomenshecouldseesmileshalf-hidden,half-revealed,bytheflowerstheladiesheld;everywheretherewassilk,theflashofjewelsandgold,whitearms,andhairpiledhighonelegantheads.

Emma'sheartbeatfasterwhen,herpartnerholdingherbythetipsofherfingers,shetookherplaceinlineandstoodwaitingforthedancetobegin.Buthernervousnesssoondisappearedand,movingtothemusic,sheflewonaslightas abird.Thememoriesofherpast life,whichuntil thenhadalwaysbeen soclear, disappeared so completely in the magic of the moment that she couldhardlypersuadeherselftheywerenotadream.Thereshewas.Nodoubtaboutthat!

During a break in the dancing supper was served, and again the wineflowed freely,accompaniedbysea-foodsoup, sweetpuddingsandallkindsofcoldmeats.Nowpeoplewith longer journeysbegan toget into their carriagesanddriveoffoneafteranother.Charleswashalf-asleepwithhisbackagainstadoor.Butnot everyonewas ready to leave, and itwasat three in themorningwhenthelastdancebegan.

Onlytheguestswhowerestayingthenightatthechateauwerestillthere.Oneof these, aViscountwhose eveningdress fitted him like a glove, came asecond time to inviteMadameBovary to dance.They began slowly, and thenincreased their speed. They turned, and everything around them turned - thelamps,thefurnitureandthefloor.Astheyswungpastthedoors,Emma'sdress

blewupintheair.TheViscountlookeddownather,sheraisedhereyestohis;foramomentshelostherbreathandstopped.Thenofftheywentagain,quickerthanever,racingdowntothehighwindowsatthefarendoftheroom,whereshenearly fell and, for a moment, rested her head on his chest. And then, stillturning,butmoregentlynow,he tookher toherseat.She leanedbackagainstthe wall and covered her eyes with her hands. Then there was a little moreconversationand,aftersayinggoodnight(orgoodmorning),theguestswentofftobed.

Charlesdraggedhimselfupstairsonheavylegs.ButEmmadidnotwanttosleep.Sheopenedthewindowandsatwithherheadinherhand.Thenightwasdark.Afewdropsofrainwerefalling.Shebreathedinthedampwindthatblewcoolagainsthereyelids.Thedancemusicwasstillplayinginherears,andshetriedtokeepawakeinordertokeepthedreamaliveforaslongasshecould.Asshe stood there, the sun began to rise beyond the trees and she shiveredwithcold.Sheundressedandgotdownbetweenthesheets,closeuptoCharles,whowasasleep.

There were twelve or fifteen of them at breakfast, which, to Charles'ssurprise, was all over in ten minutes. After that, a small group went withMademoiselled'Andervilliersforawalkthroughthepark,andthen,toamusethelady,theMarquistookEmmatoseehisstables,whileCharleswenttoaskoneofthementobringhishorseandcarriage.

WhenEmmareturned,theBovaryssaidtheirgoodbyestotheMarquisandMarquiseand turned theirhorse'shead towardsTostesandhome.Emmasat insilence.Theirbagsbangedagainst thebackof the carriage as theymade theirway down the rough road. They had reached the high ground at Thibourvillewhen suddenly a group of gentlemen, laughing and smoking cigars, rode pastthem.EmmathoughtsherecognizedtheViscountwhohaddancedwithherlastnight.Sheturnedroundtohaveanotherlook,buttheywerealreadytoofaraway.

Alittlelater,theyhadtostoptomakeasmallrepairtothecarriage.Whenhe had finished, Charles noticed something lying on the ground between hishorse's legs.Hebentdownandpickedupabeautifully-madegreen silk cigar-casewithtwocigarsstillinsideit.

'They'llbegoodthiseveningafterdinner.'

Heputthecaseinhispocketandstartedthehorse.

When theygot home, the eveningmealwas not ready.Madamebecameangryandthemaid,Nastasie,repliedrudely.

'Youcanleave,'saidEmma.'Youarefinishedhere!'

Soalltheyhadfordinnerwasonionsoupwithasmallpieceofmeatandsomevegetables.

'Howniceitistobebackhomeagain!'saidCharles,cheerfullyrubbinghishandsashesatdownoppositeEmma.

TheycouldhearNastasieweepingastheyate.Charleswasratherfondofthepoorgirl,whohadkepthimcompanyafterhisfirstwifedied,whenhehadnothingtodo.Shehadbeenhisfirstpatient,thefirstpersonheevergottoknowinTostes.

'Haveyoureallytoldhertoleave?'hesaidatlast.

'Yes.Whynot?'shereplied.

After supper, they went into the kitchen to warm themselves while thebedroomwasbeingprepared.Charlesbegan tosmoke.Hepushedouthis lips,spat repeatedly,andpulledhisheadbackevery timehebreathed in thesmokefromthecigar.

'You'llmakeyourselfill!'shesaid.

Heputthecigardown,andwenttogethimselfadrinkofwater.Quickaslightning, Emma picked up the cigar-case and threw it into the back of thecupboard.

Timewentsoslowlythenextday!Emmawalkedaroundherlittlegarden,upanddown,upanddown,stoppingtolookattheflower-beds,atthefruittrees;lookingatallthesefamiliarthings,thingsthatsheknewsowellbutwhichnowseemedsostrange.Howfarawaythechateauseemedalready!HerjourneytoLaVaubyessard had changed her life, but left it feeling empty. However, sheacceptedherfate.Shefoldedupherbeautifuldressandlaiditcarefullyawayinthechestofdrawers,withherdancing shoes.Shehadnowknownwealthand

luxury,andlifewouldneverbethesame.

The memory of this visit to the chateau became part of her life. EachWednesdayshewouldsighassheawokeandsaytoherself,'Aweekagotoday...afortnightago...threeweeksago,Iwasthere!'Butlittlebylittlethefacesofthepeoplebecamefaintinhermemory,andsheforgotthetunesshehaddancedto.Theservants'clothes,thelookoftheroomscamebacklessclearlytohervision.Someofthedetailsfadedaway,buttheemptyspaceinherheartremained.

CHAPTERFIVE

MovingHome

Often, when Charles was out of the house, Emma would go to thecupboard and take out the green silk cigar-case she had hidden there. Itmusthavebelonged to theViscount.Perhaps itwas a present froma lady friend inParis,madewithloveandcareineverystitch.Paris!Whatsortofaplacewasit?'Paris!'-shesaidthenameunderherbreath,becauseshelovedthesoundofit.Itwaslikethegreatbellinanoldchurch;thewordseemedtoaddagoldenlighttoeverythingaroundit-eventothelabelsofherlittlepotsofcheapmake-up.

Sheboughtaguidebook toParisand,withher fingertipon themap, shewouldmakelittleimaginaryjourneysaroundthecapital.Shepretendedshewaswalkingalong thewide streets, looking inwonderat thegreathouses.At last,growing tired, she would let her eyes close, and then in the darkness shedreamed she saw the flame of the street lamps, and the steps of the carriagesbeingletdownattheentrancetothetheatre.

Sheburiedherselfinwomen'smagazines,readingeverywordaboutoperaandfashionandthelifeoftherich.Shereadthelatestnovels-evenbringingherbookwithher to the tableand turning thepageswhileCharlesateand talked.Andassheread,thememoryoftheViscountcamebacktoherandherdreamsbecamemoreimportant,morerealtoherthanherlifeasacountrydoctor'swife.

Butshetriedtoimprovethingsinherhouse.Shetaughthermaidtohandaglassofwaterheldinawhitecloth,toknockbeforeenteringaroom,todresshermistress.Inthedaytime,Emmaworealongdresswithasilkbeltandlittleredsilk shoes. She had bought herself a writing-case, a pen-holder and someenvelopes,althoughshehadnoone towrite to.She thought shewould like totravel,ortogobacktoherschool.Shewantedtodie-andshewantedtogoandliveinParis.

AndCharlesrodefromfarmtofarmonhisoldhorse.Heatebreakfastinfarmhouse kitchens, visited sick people in their dirty beds, got blood on hishandsand faceand listened to the lastwordsof thedying.Buteverynighthecamehometoafire,agooddinner,acomfortablechair,andaprettywifewho

had so many little ways of giving pleasure. It might be paper shades for thecandles,anewribbonforherdressoranextraordinarynameforaveryordinarydish,whichCharlesatehappily,enjoyingeverybitofit.EverythingEmmadidadded something to the pleasure of his senses and of his home. It was likefindinggold-dustinthemiddleofthenarrowpathwayofhislife.

Hefeltwell,andlookedwell.Peoplelikedhim.Hetalkedtotheirchildren,didnotdrink,couldbetrustedandwasespeciallygoodwiththechestcomplaintsthat were so common among country people. A major reason for Charles'ssuccesswasthathewassoafraidofkillinghispatientsthathenevergavethemanythingmorethansimplemedicines-buthewasnotfrightenedofsurgery,andhada strongwristwhenhepulled teeth.Thepeopleof the regionwerehappywiththeirdoctor.

Charlesdidhavesomeambitions.He tried to readaprofessional journalafterdinner,butthewarmthoftheroomandthegoodmealhehadeatenwouldsendhimtosleepafterfiveminutes.Andtherehesat,hisheadrestingonhistwohandsandhis longhairhangingoverhisface.Emmalookedathimandaskedherselfwhyshehadnotgotoneofthosestrong,silentmenforahusband,menwhositupatnightwiththeirbooks,andbecomefamous,ifnotrich.ShewouldhavelikedthenameofBovary,whichwashersnow,tobefamous,tobeseeninthebookshops, talkedabout in thepapers,knownalloverFrance.ButCharlesdidnothavethatkindofambition,andsometimesshefeltlikehittinghim.'Whataman!Whatapoorkindofman!'shesaidtoherself,bitingherlips.

Soastimewenton,Emmafeltherselflessandlessabletoputupwithherhusband.Hewasgrowingmoreunpleasantashegotolder.Hesuckedhisteethaftereating,andmadeahorriblenoiseateverymouthfulofsoupheswallowed.As he was beginning to put on weight, his eyes, which were already small,lookedasiftheywouldstarttodisappearintohisincreasinglyfatface.

Deepdowninherheart,shewaswaitingforsomethingtohappen.Shedidnotknowwhatitwouldbe,whatthewindwouldblowtoher.Buteverymorningwhensheawoke,shehopeditwouldcomethatday.Shelistenedtoeverysound,watchedeverynewfaceinthestreetoutsideherhouseforasign,andcouldnotunderstand why nothing happened. And then at sunset, sadder than ever, shewouldlongforthenextdaytocome.

Thespringcameagain.Withthefirst touchofheat,whentheappletrees

wereinflower,shebegantohaveattacksofdizziness.AndwhenJulycame,shecountedonher fingershowmanyweeks itwouldbe toOctober, thinking thatperhaps the Marquis d'Andervilliers would be giving another dance at LaVaubyessard.ButSeptembercameandwent,andnoonecalledorwrote.

After thisdisappointment therewas thesameemptiness inherheart,andtheemptydaysbeganagainasbefore.Thefuturewas likeacorridor inwhichtherewasnolight,andattheendofitonlyacloseddoor.Shegaveuphermusic.Whatwastheuseofplaying?Whowastheretohear?Shestoppedherdrawing.Whatwasthegood,whatwasthegoodofitall?Evensewingboredher.

'There'snothinglefttoread,'shesaidtoherself.Andthereshesat,staringatthefallingrain.

Was this hopeless life going to last for ever?Was there no escape? Sheknewshewasjustasgoodastheluckierones.AtLaVaubyessardshehadseengreat ladies who were not as pretty or intelligent as her; why was she sounlucky?Shewouldleanherheadagainstthewallandweep,wantingsomuchforalifeofexcitement,pleasures,allthedelightswhichmustbeoutthereintheworld,butwhichwerenothers.Thereweredayswhenshewouldtalkandtalk;then the excitement would die away, and she would fall back into a kind ofdreamworldandsitwithoutmovingorsayingaword.

As she was always saying how she hated Tostes, Charles thought herillnessmustbecausedbytheplaceitself.Theideagrewonhim,andhebeganseriouslytothinkofgoingelsewhere.Thenshestarteddrinkingvinegartomakeherselfloseweight,coughedalittledrycoughandcouldnottouchherfood.

ItwashardforCharles to leaveTostes.Hehadbeen thereforfouryearsandwasbuildingagoodpractice.However,whatmustbemustbe.HetookhertoRouentoseeanotherdoctor.Thedoctorsaiditwasacaseofnerves.Whatsheneededwasachange.SoCharles lookedaroundallover theplace, andat lastheardofabusy littlemarket towncalledYonville-l'Abbaye, somewhere in theNeufchatelarea,wherethedoctorhadrecentlylefttownandnoreplacementhadbeenfound.Hewrote to the localpharmacistaskinghimto lethimknowhowmany people therewere in the place,what sort of competition therewas, andhowmuch ayear theothermanused tomake.The answerswere satisfactory,andCharlesdecidedhewouldmakeamoveinthespringifEmma'shealthhadnotimproved.

Oneday,when shewas emptying a drawer in preparation for themove,Emmafelt somethingsharpagainsther finger. Itwas thepieceofwirearoundherweddingflowers,fadedanddustynow,andtheribboneatenbyinsects.Shethrewthemonthefire,wheretheyburnedlikeahandfulofdrygrassandthenlaylikearedbushinthefireplace.Asshewatchedthemburn,thepaperberriesburst, thewirebentandtwisted,andthepaperflowerswereheldinthehotairlikeblackinsectsuntil,atlast,theyflewupthechimney.

InMarch,whentheyleftTostes,MadameBovarywaspregnant.

CHAPTERSIX

Yonville

Yonville-l'Abbaye is a market town about twenty-six kilometres fromRouen, between the Abbeville and Beauvais roads. It is on the borders ofNormandy,PicardyandtheIle-de-France, thesortofplacewherethelanguagehasnoaccentandthelandscapenocharacter.Heretheymaketheworstcheeseinthewholedistrict,andfarmingisexpensivebecausethesandy,stonysoilissopoor.

Until1835therewasnogoodroadtoYonville,andalthoughanewonehasbeenbuilt,nothinghas reallychanged there forahundredyears.Walking intothetownyoustillpasssmallfarmhousesset intheirowngardens,andseethatthefieldsstretchalmostintothecentreofthetown.Themarket,withitsredroofsupported by twenty ormorewooden posts, takes up half of the town square.TheTownHallisalarge,importantlookingbuilding,butwhatreallycatchestheeyeisthepharmacyofMonsieurHomaisjustoppositethetown'sonehotel,theLiond'Or.

Thepharmacy isespeciallyattractiveatnightwhen the lampsare litandthebigredandgreenglassbottlesinthewindowsendlongbeamsofcolouredlightfaroutalongtheground.Fromtoptobottom,thebuildingiscoveredwithadvertisements formedicinesandmineralwater,and theshop-signwhichgoesrightacrossthefrontcarriesingoldenlettersthewords'Homais,Pharmacist'.Atthe far end of the shop, the word 'Laboratory' appears over a glass door onwhich,halfwayup,thename'Homais'isrepeatedinmoregoldlettersonblack.

AndthatisallthereisworthseeinginYonville.Theoneandonlystreet,withashoportwooneithersideofit,stopsatthebendintheroad.Ifyouturntoyourrightandfollowthepathatthefootofthehill,youcometothecemetery.

Thenight theBovarys arrived inYonville,MadameLefrancois,who ranthe inn, was so busy that the sweat ran down her face as she rushed aroundamongherpotsandpans.Tomorrowwasmarketdayandshestillhadthemeattocook,thesouptomakeandthecoffeetogetready.Thentherewasthemealforherregularcustomers,aswellasforthenewdoctorandhiswifeandmaid-

whosecoachwasnowhalfanhourlate.

Shoutsoflaughtercamefromthebar,wherethreeworkmenwerecallingformorewineandthewoodfirewasburning.Amaninsoftgreenleathershoes,asmokingcaponhishead,wasstandingwarminghisbackbythefire.Hehadalookofcompleteself-satisfactiononhisface,andheappearedtobeascarefreeasthesmallbirdinthecagewhichhungfromtheceiling.Itwasthepharmacist,waitingfortheeveningmealwhichheregularlyateatthehotel.

He did not have to wait too long. Soon, Madame Lefrancois heard thesoundofwheelsandthemetalshoesofatiredhorseontheroadoutside.

As soon as the coach stopped, other villagers came to the inn, and allbegan to speak at once, asking for news, explanations and packages they hadbeenwaiting for.Ashe gaveout his parcels,Hivert, the coachman, told themtheyhadbeendelayedbecauseMadameBovary's little doghad run away andhadnotbeenfound.

Emmahad,infact,beencryingforthelasthour.ShesaiditwasCharles'sfault.MonsieurLheureux,whowastravellinginsidethecoachandwhohadthefabricshopinthevillage,haddonehisbesttomakeherhappierbytellingherofseveral cases in which dogs had come back to their masters after years ofseparation.Therewasastory,hesaid,ofadogthatfounditswaybacktoParisallthewayfromConstantinople!

Dogornodog, theyhadarrivedat theirnewhome,andhadto leavethecoach.Emmagotoutfirst,thenFelicite,hermaid,andthenMonsieurLheureux.Theyhad towakeCharles up; hehad fallen asleep in his corner as soon as itgrewdark.

Homais introduced himself, offered his services to Madame and hisrespectstoMonsieur,toldthemhewascharmedtohavebeenabletodothemaservice,addingwithasmilethathehadinvitedhimselftodinnerashiswifewasawayfromhome.

Assoonasshewasinthekitchen,MadameBovarywentovertothefire.Withthetipsoftwofingersshetookholdofherdressatthekneeand,raisingitaboveherankles,stretchedoutafoottotheflames-alittlefootinablackboot.Thefirelitherfromtoptotoe,itsredlightmakingherdressshineandshowingtheperfectwhiteskinofherface.Ontheothersideofthefireplace,afair-haired

youngmanwatchedherinsilence.

MonsieurLeonDupuis,clerktothetown'sonlylawyer,alsoateregularlyat the Lion d'Or. As he found life in Yonville almost impossibly boring, hewouldoftendelayhismeal in thehope thata travellerwouldarriveat the innwithwhomhecouldenjoyaconversationintheevening.ItwasthereforewithsomepleasurethatheacceptedthesuggestionthatheshouldsitdownwiththeBovarys.

At the table, Homais asked permission to keep on his cap, for fear ofcatchingcold.

'Madame must be a little tired,' he said, turning to Emma. 'It is not acomfortablejourney.'

'Verytrue,'sheanswered,'butIlovemovingaround.Ihatestayinginoneplace.'

'Oh,Iagree.Stayinginoneplaceishorrible!'saidtheclerk.

'But if you were like me,' said Charles, 'and always had to be on yourhorse...'

And so the meal continued. Charles spent most of his time discussingmedicalmatterswithMonsieurHomais,whileLeontoldMadameBovaryabouttheattractionsof theneighbourhood.Theyquicklydiscovered that theysharedthesameromantictastes.

'Ithinkthere'snothingsobeautifulasasunset,especiallybythesea!'saidMadameBovary.

'Oh,Ilovethesea!'MonsieurLeonreplied.

'Anddoesn'titseemtoyou,somehow,thatyouthinkmorefreely,andthatitraisesyoursoulandmakesyouthinkoftheendlessnatureofthings?'

'It'sjustthesamewheretherearemountains,'Leonwenton.

SotheycontinuedtalkingofSwitzerlandandItaly,whichtheyhadnevervisited,andmusic,whichneitherofthemcouldplay,andreading-theonething

thatbothofthemdidenthusiastically.

'What can be better than sitting by the fire in the eveningwith a book,whenthelampislitandthewindbeatsagainstthewindow?'saidLeon.

'That's just what I think,' she replied, looking at himwith her big, darkeyes.

'Youforgeteverything,'hewenton.'Thehoursslipby.Sittingstillinyourarmchair, you canwander in strange places and imagine they are there beforeyoureyes.'

'Ohyes,that'strue!'shesaid.

They had been at the table for two and a half hours by now, sinceArtemise, the servant, did not hurry as she brought the dishes in from thekitchen.Quiteunconsciously,Leonhadputhisfootupononeofthebarsofthechair onwhichMadameBovarywas sitting,moving closer so he could catcheverythingshesaid.Andso,whileCharlesandthepharmacistwentonwiththeirdiscussion, Emma and Leon sat close to one another, and entered into aconversation in which they talked about the interests they shared: the Paristheatres,namesofnovels,thelatestdances,theworldoffashion,whichneitherofthemknewanythingabout,Tostes,whereshehadlived,andYonville,wheretheywerenow.Theydiscussedanythingandeverything,andtalkedallthroughdinner.

Whenthecoffeewasbrought in,Felicitewent toarrangethebedroominthenewhouse,andthegrouparoundthedinnertablesoonafterwardsrosetogo.MadameLefrancoishad fallen asleepby thedying fire,while themanservant,lamp in hand, was waiting to show Monsieur and Madame Bovary to theirhouse.

Thehousefeltdampandcoldafterthewarmthoftheinn.Thewallswerenewandthewoodenstairshadnocarpet.Upstairsinthebedroom,apalelightcamein throughthecurtainlesswindows.Thetopsofsometreescouldjustbeseen,andbeyondthem,thefieldsinthemoonlight.

ThiswouldbethefourthtimeEmmahadsleptinanewbedroom.Thefirstwaswhenshewenttotheconvent,thesecondwhenshecametoTostes,thethirdatLaVaubyessard,andnowthiswasthefourth.Andeverytime,ithadseemed

asifshewereenteringanewstageinherlife.Shecouldnotbelievethatthingswould lookandbe thesame indifferentplaces.Themost recentperiodofherlifehadbeenbad,sothenextpartwouldhavetobebetter.

CHAPTERSEVEN

InLove

Nextmorning,whensheawoke,Emmasawtheclerkwalkingacross thesquare.Shewas inherdressing-gown.He lookedupand tookoffhishat.Shegavealittlenodandquicklyshutthewindow.

All day long, Leon waited for six o'clock to arrive. But when he wentround to the inn, the only person therewasMonsieurBinet, the tax collector,alreadyseatedatthetable.ThedinnerofthenightbeforehadbeenanimportanteventforLeon.Itwasthefirsttimeinhislifethathehadtalkedtoawomanforawholeevening.Howdidhemanagetotellher,andinsuchbrilliantlanguage,somanythingshecouldnothaveexpressedsowellbefore?Unfortunately,itdidnot look as if he would have the chance to repeat his performance for themoment.

Monsieur Homais, the pharmacist, however, was able to visit MadameBovary and show what a good neighbour he was. He told her all about theshopkeepers,wheretogetherbuttercheaply,andhehelpedherfindagardener.It has to be said, however, that he was not doing this out of pure kindness.MonsieurHomaishad,ayearearlier,brokenthelawwhichforbadethepracticeofmedicine by all unqualified persons. Someone had told the authorities, andMonsieurHomais had been given a very severewarning by themagistrate inRouen.Theproblemwasthathestilllikedtogivequick,innocentconsultationsin his shop, but theMayor did not like him, otherswere jealous, and hewasplayingadangerousgame.SoMonsieurHomaisthoughttohimselfthatifhedidthingsforMonsieurandMadameBovary,MonsieurBovarywouldbegrateful,andagratefulmandoesnotmakecomplaintstotheauthoritiesinRouen.

Everymorning,Homaiswouldcomeacrosswiththenewspaperandoften,duringtheafternoon,hewouldleavehisshopforaminuteortwotochatwiththenewdoctor.Charleswasnotahappyman;patientsdidnotcome.Hesatforhourafterhourinsilence,orhewenttosleepinhissurgeryorwatchedhiswifesew.Heevenstarteddoingsomesmalljobsathome,tryingtopaintthebedroomwith somepaint themenhad left behind.Moneywashisgreatworry.Hehadspentsucha lotonrepairsatTostes,onhiswife'sclothesandonmoving,and

mostofhissavingsandEmma'smoneyhadgoneintwoyears.

ButCharles alsohad somethingpleasant to think about, as hiswifewasexpectingachild,andtheclosertheygottothetime,themorelovinghebecame.It was another link between them, real evidence of their marriage. When hewatchedherheavierwalk,whenshesatoppositehimatthetable,orwhenshewas inher armchair afterdinner,hecouldnot stophimselfgettingup,kissingher, stroking her face, calling her 'little mother'. The idea of being a fatherpleasedhimverymuch.Helackednothing.

AtfirstEmmawassurprisedbyhisattention; thenallshewantedwas tohave thebabyas soonaspossible, so that shewouldknowhow it felt tobeamother.Theirshortageofmoneymeantthatshecouldnotbuyallthethingsshewantedforthenewarrival,soperhapsshedidnotfeelasmuchloveforthechildshecarriedasshewantedtogive.Butshethoughtaboutitallthetime.

She hoped it would be a boy. He should be strong and dark, and theywouldcallhimGeorge.Andthethoughtofhavingaboysomehowmadeherfeelbetter.Amanwouldbefree,whileawomanisalwayslimited.Sheisweakerandeconomically dependent, and the habits of society do not permit her the samefreedom.

Emma'sbabywasbornonaSundaymorningataboutsix,justasthesunwasrising.

'It'sagirl,'saidCharles.

Sheturnedawayherheadandfainted.

Madame Homais came to the house as soon as the news was given tocongratulate her, and so did Madame Lefrancois of the Lion d'Or. Thepharmacistofferedhiscongratulationsthroughthehalf-opendoor.Hethenaskedtoseethebabyanddeclareditwasthemostwellformedhehadeverseen.

As the doctor felt that hiswifewas not strong enough to feed the babyherself,thelittlegirlwassenttoawetnurse.Withnothingelsetodointhedaysafter thebirth,Emma tried to thinkofanameforherdaughter.First shewentthroughnameswithItalianendings,likeClara,Louisa,Amanda.SheratherlikedoldnameslikeGalsuinde,orYseultorLeocadie.Charleswantedthechildtobecalledafterhermother.Emmasaidno.

AtlastEmmarememberedthatattheChateaudelaVaubyessardshehadheard theMarquisecallayoungwomanby thenameofBerthe.Thatdecisionwasmade.

Fourorfiveweeksafterthebirth,Emmafeltasuddenneedtoseeherlittlegirl,soshesetoutinthedirectionofthewetnurse'shouseatthefarendofthevillage.Itwasmiddayandthesunbeatdownfromacloudlesssky.Ahotwindwasblowingandwhenshehadgonesomeway,Emmabegantofeelweakfromthe effort of walking. She started to think she should return home or go insomewhereandsitdown.

Just then, Monsieur Leon came out from a house close by, with somepapersunderhisarm.Hecameupandspoke,andtookherintotheshadeoutsideLheureux'sshop.MadameBovarysaidshewasonherwaytoseeherbaby,butthatshewasbeginningtofeeltired.

'If...'beganLeon,buthestopped,notdaringtocontinue.

'Areyouverybusy?'sheasked.

Andwhentheclerksaidthathewasnot,shebeggedhimtowalkwithher.

Toreachthenurse'shousetheyhadtogoalongtotheendofthestreetandthenturn,as if theyweregoingtothecemetery.Theysetoffsidebyside,andrecognizedthehousebyanoldtreethatshadedit.Itwasalow,badlymaintainedhousewithabrownroofandsmall,untidygarden.

Hearingthegateopen,thewomancameout,carryingababyatherbreast.Withherotherhandshewasdraggingalongapoor,miserable-lookingtwo-year-oldwithspotsalloverhisface.

'Comein,'shesaid.'Yourlittleoneisinthereasleep.'

Shewent into thedarkbedroom,andshowedEmmawhere the littlegirlwassleeping.Emmatookthebabyinherarms,wrappedupinadirtyblanket,andbegantosinggentlyassheheldher.

Leonwalkedupanddowntheroom.Itseemedstrangetohimtoseethisbeautiful,elegantlydressedwomaninsuchpoorsurroundings.MadameBovarysaw him looking and blushed bright red. He turned away, thinking he had

perhapsseemedtoocurious,asshegavethebabybacktothenurse.Ithadjustbeensickalloverhercollar.

Having lost enthusiasm forherbaby,Emmaagain tookMonsieurLeon'sarm,andtheyleftthenurseholdingthechildandwavingastheywentdownthepath.Emmawalkedquicklyforsomedistance,thensloweddown.Asshelookedaroundher,hereyesrestedontheyoungman'sshoulderandonhiswell-cutcoatwithitssmartblackcollar.Shenoticedhowhisgoldenbrownhairwassmoothand carefully brushed, and that his fingernails were longer and much morecarefullycaredforthanmostfingernailsinYonville.

They went back to the village on the path beside the river. The streamflowedonnoiselessly,deepandcool;darkplantsmovedinthewaterlikelonggreen hair, and insectswalked over its smooth surface orwaitedwith shiningwingsonthetallgrassatthewater'sedge.Allaround,asfarastheeyecouldsee,thefieldshademptiedofpeople. Itwasdinner-timein thefarms,and theonlysoundsthatfellontheearsoftheyoungwomanandhercompanionweretheirfootstepsonthepath,thewordstheyspokeandEmma'sdressbrushingagainstthegrass.Thegardenwallswerehot in the sun, and thewildplants thatweregrowingbetweenthestoneshaddied.Asshepassed,MadameBovarytouchedsomeoftheirdryflowers,whichmadethemfallintoyellowdust.

TheyweretalkingaboutsomeSpanishdancerswhoweregoingtoperformatthetheatreinRouen.

'Willyougo?'sheasked.

'IfIcan,'hereplied.

Was this all they had to say to one another? They tried to speak ofordinary,everydaythings,butallthetimetheyfeltadeepchangecomingoverthem.Itwaslikeawhisperfromthesoul,deepdown,strongerthanthespokenword.Lostinwonderatthisstrangesweetness,theydidnotspeakofitortrytoexplainwhatwashappening.Butboth felt that therecouldbe futurepleasureswaitingforthem.

When they came to her garden,Madame Bovary pushed open the littlegateand,runningupthesteps,disappearedfromview.

Leonwentbacktohisoffice.Hisbosswasout.Helookedquicklyatsome

papers,preparedapenforwriting,butthenputonhishatandwentout.Hewentuptotheedgeofthewoods,threwhimselfdownonthegroundunderthetreesandlookedattheskythroughhisfingers.

'Oh!'hesighed.'Iamsobored!'

As soon as theweather began to turn cold,Emma spent her days in thesittingroom.Itwasalongroomwithalowceiling,andabovethefireplacetherewas a picture of the sea and a largemirror. She pulled her chair close to thewindowsothatshecouldwatchthevillagersastheywentbyonthepavement.

Twice a day, Leon passed from hiswork to the Lion d'Or. Emma couldrecognizehisstepsfromalongwayaway.Sheleanedforwardandlistened,andthe young man walked past, always dressed the same and always lookingstraight in front of him. In the evening, when she had dropped her piece ofunfinished sewing on her lap andwas sittingwith her chin resting on her lefthand,shewouldagainnoticehisfiguremovingpast thewindow,and thenshewouldgetupandtellthegirltolaythetablefordinner.

MonsieurHomaiswouldoftencomeinwhile theywereeating.Smokingcap in hand, he would come in quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone, andalways saying the same thing: 'Good evening, everybody.' Having taken hisusualplaceatthetable,betweenhusbandandwife,heaskedthedoctorabouthispatients,andthedoctorconsultedhimaboutthesortoffeesheoughttocharge.Then they began to discuss the news in the paper. At eight o'clock thepharmacist's assistant, Justin,would come for him to go over and shut up theshop.

OnSundays,theBovaryswouldreturnthesevisitsandspendtheeveningat the pharmacist's. Theywould beginwith cards -Monsieur Homais usuallybeingEmma'spartner.Leonwould standbehindher and tellherwhat toplay.Everytimeshethrewacardonthetable,themovementwouldpullupherdressontherightside,andherhairwouldmoveacrosshernecklikesoftbrownsilk.

When they had finished the cards, the pharmacist and the doctorwouldsettle down to discuss the news of the day and drink their wine and Emma,changingherplace,wouldsitwithherelbowonthetable,turningoverthepagesof an illustratedmagazine. Leon sat down beside her, and they looked at thepictures together,waiting foreachotherat thebottomof thepage.Sometimes

she would ask him to read some poetry. And so a kind of friendship beganbetweenthem.

TheproblemforLeon,however,wastoknowwhatsortoffriendMadameBovarymightbe.Theygaveeachothersmallpresents,theywerehappyineachother'scompany,butwouldtherebemore?Hethoughtandthoughtaboutthisinhis lonely room. Should he tell herwhat hewas feeling?Did he love her, ordidn'the?Hewastornbetweenfearofhurtingherandshameathisownlackofcourage.Sometimeshewouldmakeuphismind toact,and toactquickly.Hewroteletters-andtorethemup;decidedonadaytospeaktoher-andputitoff.Sometimeshewalkedoutofthelawyer'sofficewithhismindmadeup.Butallhiscouragemeltedwhenhe foundhimself face to facewithEmma;andwhenCharlescamehomeandinvitedhimtocomewithhimtoseeapatientatafarmafewkilometresaway,heatonceacceptedand,withabowtoMadame,leftwithherhusband.

ButEmmadidnotaskherself ifshewasinlove.Love,shethought,wassomething thatmust come suddenly, like a great thunderstorm, blowing awayyourold life andcarryingyourheart and soul away, toheavenor tohell.Sheneverthoughtaboutthewayarivercanriseslowly,gettinghigherdaybyday,untilafteranightofrainitbreaksitsbanksandfloodsthelandaroundit.Infact,shehadnoideaofthedangershewasin.

CHAPTEREIGHT

ADreamEnds

OnesnowySundayafternooninFebruary,MonsieurandMadameBovary,Homais andMonsieur Leon went to look at a newmill that was being builtoutsideYonville.Homaishadbroughthischildren,togivethemalittleexercise.TheplacedidnotinterestEmma,andshestoodawayfromthegroup,leaningonLeon'sarm,whileHomaisandherhusbandtalkedaboutthetechnicalwonders-thethickwalls,thegreatmachinery-theysawallaroundthem.

Turningfromthepalesunlightcomingthroughthemist,shesawCharles,his cappulleddownoverhis ears, his thick lips andhis stupid face.Evenhisbackwasannoying,astupidbackcoveredinastupid,boringwintercoat.Leonmovedforwardastep.Thecoldairhadmadehimpale,evenmorebeautifulthannormal.Thecollarofhisshirtwasopenalittle,showinghiswhiteskin;thetipofhisearwasvisibleunderhislonghair,andhisbigblueeyes,raisedupwardstotheclouds,seemedtoEmmatobeclearer,morebeautifulthanthosemountainlakesinwhichtheskiesaremirrored.

MadameBovarydidnotgoovertoherneighbours'thatevening,andwhenCharles had left and she felt shewas all alone, she laydownon the carpet infront of the fire and thought about Leon once more. She thought he wascharming.Shecouldnotputhimoutofher thoughts.Sherememberedhowhehad stood, the things he had said, all about him.And she said over and overagain, 'Oh, charming! Charming!... And in love?' she asked herself. 'Butwithwhom?...Butitmustbewithme!'

The evidencewas suddenly clear to her andher heart gave a great leap.Thefirelightbecamebrighter,andsheturnedonherbackandstretchedoutherarms.

After the first excitement, she then thought, as so many people havebefore, 'Ah,whydid thishappenwhenitwas too late?Whynotbefore?Whatpreventedit?'

ItwasmidnightwhenCharlesgotback.Shepretendedshehadjustwoken

upand, ashemadeanoiseundressing, shecomplainedofhavingaheadache.Thensheaskedwhatsortofaneveningithadbeen.

'MonsieurLeon,'hesaid,'wenttobedearly.'

Shecouldnothelpsmiling.Whensheturnedovertogotosleep,herheartwasfilledwithanewhappiness.

Nextday,however,shecouldnotsettletoherworkinthehouse;shewashappy,butstillcouldnottakepleasureinthethingssheusuallylikedtodo.SowhenMonsieurLheureux, thedraper,visitedandshowedherabeautifulscarf,evenofferingtoletherpaylater,sherefused.AndwhenLeonvisitedherintheafternoon,allshecoulddowastotalkaboutherhusband!

The same sort of thingwent on for days. Hermanner and conversationchanged completely. She became interested in housekeeping, started going tochurchagainregularly,andstopped thecookstealing thesugar.Sheeven tookher little daughterBerthe away from thewet nurse and showed her to all hervisitors. She told everyone she loved children. They were such a joy andcomfort,shesaid,asshekissedthechildandheldherclosetoher.WhenCharlesgothome,hewould findhis chair readyby the fire.Hisclotheswerebrushedand cleaned, the buttonswere always on his shirts, and his shirtswere foldedcarefully after theyhadbeen ironed.WhenLeon sawhimat the fireside afterdinner,withhishandsonhisstomach,hischeeksredfromthemeatandwine,thechildcrawlingaroundonthecarpet,andthiselegantwomanwhowouldleanoverandkisshimoverthebackofthechair,hewouldsaytohimself, 'WhatafoolIamtoimagineIcouldmakehercareforme!'

Andaseachdaypassed,Emmabecamethinnerandpaler.Shewassosadandsocalm,sogentleand,atthesametime,sodistant,thatyoufeltasortoficycharm when you were with her. This charm changed the attitudes of herneighbours; they no longer saw her as the outsiderwho did not knowhow tobehaveproperly.

'She'sawonderfulwoman,'saidthepharmacist,andthemarriedwomenofYonville admired her for her good management, the patients for her pleasantmanners,thepoorforhercharity.Butbeneathhercalm,Emmawasinastateofdesire and anger and hatred. Her plain, simple dress hid a heart that wasbreaking,andshecouldtellnoone,noone!ShewasinlovewithLeon,butshe

didnotwanttoseehim.Herheartbeatfasterwhensheheardhimcoming,andthen, when he was there, the excitement went away and was replaced by afeelingoffearandsadness.Shedidnotknowwhattodo.

What made it harder to bear was that Charles had no understanding ofwhatshewasgoingthrough,andshebegantohatehimforhislackoffeeling.Shewould have likedCharles to beat her so that she could have a reason forhatinghim.Shewastornbetweenaloveshecouldnotadmitto,andahatredshecould not show. And there she sat at the end of another empty day, broken,motionless,herfacewetwithtears.

'Whydon'tyou tell thedoctorabout it?'saidhermaidwhenshecameinandfoundherlikethis.

'It'sonlynerves,'answeredEmma.'Don'tmentionittohim.Hewouldonlyworry.'

If Emma was unhappy, Leon was also less than pleased with his life,feelinghehadnothing to look forward to.Hewas so tiredofYonvilleand itsinhabitants that thesightofcertainpeopleandcertainhousesmadehimangry.And when Monsieur Homais, the pharmacist, tried to amuse him, he foundhimself disliking him too. The problem was, however, that the thought ofchangingthingsalarmedhimasmuchasitexcitedhim.

Andthemorehethoughtaboutitall,themoreimpatienthebecame.'Paris'was thewordhekept saying tohimself.Sincehehad togo there forhis finalexaminations,whynotgonow?Whatwasstoppinghim?Andhebegantoplananewlifeforhimself.Hewouldlivelikeanartist.Hewouldtakeguitarlessons.Hewouldweararedcoatandabluehat;hewouldgototheoperaeverynightand drink wine with actresses! The great difficulty would be to persuade hismother to agree - but, in fact, it was quite easy.His own employer had beentellinghimtotakeupworkinanotherofficeandwidenhisexperience,andhismotherwantedLeontoqualifyassoonaspossible.Twodaysafterhehadsenthisletter,shewrotebacktohimgivingherpermission!

Whenheknewhecouldleave,however,hedidnothurry.Everyday,forawholemonth, boxes and parcelswere delivered to his rooms inYonville; andalthoughLeonhadsoonmadeenoughpreparations-andmorethanenough-foravoyageroundtheworld,hekeptputtingthingsofffromweektoweek.

However, at last the time came to leave, and he hardly had time to saygoodbyetoMonsieurBovary.Heranupthestairstothesittingroom,andashewentinMadameBovaryrosequickly.

'HereIamagain!'saidLeon.

'Iknewyouwouldcome!'

Shebitherliphard,andcouldfeelherselfblushfromtherootsofherhairtotheedgeofhercollar.Sheremainedstanding,leaninghershoulderagainstthewall.

'Isthedoctorin?'hesaid.

'No,he'sgoneout.'Andsherepeated,'He'sgoneout.'

Thentherewassilence.

'IwouldliketokissBerthegoodbye,'hesaid.

EmmawentdownafewstairsandcalledFelicite.

Hegavealonglookround-atthewalls,theshelves,thefireplace-asiftocarrythememoryofitawaywithhim.

Emma returned, and the servant came in with Berthe. Leon kissed herseveraltimesontheneck.

'Goodbye, my poor little thing; goodbye, my darling, goodbye.' And hegaveherbacktohermother.

'Takeheraway,'shesaid.

Andnowtheywerealone.

Madame Bovary had her back to him, her face against the glass of thewindow.Leonwasholdinghiscapinhishandandbeatingitgentlyagainsthisthigh.

'It'sgoingtorain,'saidEmma.

'I'vegotacoat,'heanswered.

'Ah!'

She turned away again, her face down. No one could have said whatEmmawaslookingatthroughtheglass.

'Well,thisisgoodbye!'hesighed.

Sheraisedherheadwithasuddenmovement.

'Yes,goodbye...Oh,go!'

Theyadvancedtowardseachother.Heheldouthishand.Shehesitated.'IntheEnglishstyle,then!'shesaid,puttinghersinhis,forcingherselftolaugh.

Leonfeltherhandbetweenhis fingers,and it seemed thathiswhole lifeflowedintoit.

Thenhereleasedherhand,theireyesmetforamoment,andhewasgone.

CHAPTERNINE

StartingAgain

The next day, for Emma, was like a funeral. She felt the same greyunhappinessshehadknownwhenshecamebackfromLaVaubyessardwiththedancetunesplayinginherheadandherboringhusbandsittingoppositeher.Inherimagination,Leoncamebacktoher,taller,morebeautifulthanever;thoughhewasseparatedfromher,hehadnotlefther.Hewasthere,andthewallsofthehouse seemed toholdhis shadow.She askedherself again and againwhy shehadnot taken thechancewhen itwasoffered toher.Whyhadn'tsheheldhimbackwithbothhands,beggedandprayedtohimonherknees,whenhetriedtoleave?ShecursedherselffornotgivingherlovetoLeon;shewasthirstyforhislips.Shewantedtoflyafterhimandjoinhim,tothrowherselfintohisarmsandsay,'Ihavecome,Iamyours!'ButEmmawasafraidofallthedifficultiesintheway;shewantedLeonanddarednotgiveherself,andherdesireseemedtogrowdaybyday.

AndsothememoryofLeonbecamethecentreofhersorrow.Itshoneinthedarkness,andshehurriedtowardsittowarmherselfbythedyingflames.Butthe fires died down and, little by little, the flame of love cooled. Then theunhappy days of Tostes began all over again, but she felt herselfmuchmoreunfortunatenow;shehadexperienceofgrief,andsheknewwithcertaintythatitwouldneverend.

Awomanwhohas givenup asmuch as she had, had the right to a fewluxuries.Inasinglemonth,sheboughtfourteenfrancs'worthoflemonstocleanhernails.ShewrotetoRouenandorderedabluesilkdress,andfromLheureuxsheboughtthefinestscarfhehadinhisshop.Shetieditroundherwaist,outsideher dressing-gown, and would lie by the hour on the sofa with the curtainsclosedandabookinherhand.

Butdespiteherlittlecomforts,Emmadidnotbecomehappy.Shehadthattightlookatthecornersofhermouthwhichyouseeinpeoplewhohavefailedintheirlives.Shewaspale,whiteasasheet,andshehadanuncertain,huntedlookinhereyes.Andbecauseshehaddiscoveredthreegreyhairs,shetalkedaboutbeinganoldwoman.Also, shehad frequentattacksofdizziness.Onedayshe

spat blood and, asCharles rushedover to her, obviously very anxious, all shesaid was, 'Bah! What does it matter?' Charles went and shut himself in thesurgeryandwept.

AlthoughtheBovaryhouseholdhadbecomeaplaceofunhappinessagain,lifeinYonvillecontinuedasusual.PeoplewenttothechurchonSundays,andonWednesdaysthemarketwasheldinthetownsquare.FromearlymorningthesquarefilledupwithfarmersandpeoplewithgoodstosellfromasfarasRouen.

OnWednesdaysthepharmacyneveremptied.Somecametobuymedicine,otherstogetadvice.MonsieurHomaiswasawell-knownmaninallthevillagesnear Yonville, and they thought he knew more about doctoring than all thedoctorsputtogether.Emmawasseatedatherwindowandwasamusingherselfby lookingat thecrowdofcountrypeople,whenshenoticedagentleman inagreen coat. He was wearing yellow gloves and heavy, highly polished brownleatherboots,andwasmakinghiswaytowardsthedoctor'shouse,followedbyafarmworker.

'Can I see the doctor?' he asked themaid. 'Tell himMonsieurRodolpheBoulangerofLaHuchetteishere.'

Charlescameintotheroom,andMonsieurBoulangerpresentedhisman,who said hewanted to be bled to cure his dizziness. SoBovary told them tobringhimabandageandabasin,andaskedthemaidtoholdit.

'Don't be afraid,' he said, turning to the farm worker, who had gone aswhiteasasheet.

'Notme,sir!'hereplied.AndhestuckoutagreatarmforCharlestocut,andoutshottheblood.

'Holdthebowlnearer!'criedCharles.

'Look!'saidtheworker.'You'dthinkitwasalittlefountain.Myblood'sredenough!You'dsaythatwasagoodsignnow,wouldn'tyou?'

'Sometimes they feel nothing to start with. Then faintness begins,especiallywithbig,strongpeoplelikethismanhere,'saidCharlestoMonsieurBoulanger.

Hearingthis,themangaveasuddenmovementandfellbackintothechair.

'Iknewit!'saidBovary,puttinghisfingeronthevein.Butnowthebowlofbloodwasbeginningtoshakeinthemaid'shands,andshealsoturnedpale.

'Emma!Quick!Iwantyou!'shoutedCharles.

Sherandownthestairs.

'Getmesomevinegar,'hesaid.'GoodLord,twoofthematonce!'

'It'snothingatall,'saidMonsieurBoulangercalmly,ashetookthemaidinhisarmsandleanedheragainstthewall.

MadameBovarytookholdofthebasin.Shebentdowntoputitunderthetable,andasshedidsoher longyellowdressspreadoutallaroundheronthefloor.Then,asshestretchedoutherarm,sheswayedalittleandtheclothmovedwithher,followingtheshapeofthebodybeneathit.Afteramomentshewenttofetch a jugofwater, and shewasputting somepieces of sugar in itwhen thepharmacistarrivedtoseewhatwashappening.

Whenthingshadbecomecalmer,theybegantotalkaboutfaintingattacks.MadameBovarysaidshehadneverhadoneherself.

'That'sunusualforawoman,'commentedMonsieurBoulanger. 'Buttherearesomesensitivepeoplearound.Ihaveseensoldiersfaintatthesoundofthebig guns being prepared.' Emma listened to himwith admiration in her eyes.'Anyway,myman'sfaintinghasgivenmethepleasureofmeetingMadame,'headded,lookingatEmmaashespoke.

Heputdownthreefrancsonthecornerofthetable,bowedanddeparted.Hewassoonontheothersideoftheriver,ontheroadbacktoLaHuchette,andfrom the bedroomwindow Emma could see him slowing down from time totime,likesomeonelostinthought.

'Prettylittlewoman, thisdoctor'swife-verypretty indeed!Lovelyteeth,darkeyes,neat foot.ShecouldbeaParisian.Wheredoesshecomefrom,andwhere did our fat country doctor pick her up?'MonsieurRodolpheBoulangerwasamanof thirty-four,hard-heartedbutclever.Hehadplentyofexperiencewithwomen,andknewhowtogetonwiththem.Thislatestonehadattractedhis

attention.'Thedoctorlooksadulldogtome.Iexpectshe'ssickofhim.He'sgotdirtynails and threedays'beard.Whilehe'sout seeinghispatients, she sits athomemendingsocks.Andshe'ssicktodeathofit,wantstoliveintownandgotoadanceeverynight.Poorlittlewoman!She'sdyingforlove.Awordortwoabout hearts and flowers and she'd be at your feet. But getting rid of herafterwards,that'swherethetroublewouldcomein.'

Therewasnoonearound,and theonlysoundsRodolpheheardwere thegrass brushing against his boots and the cry of the insects in the fields.OncemoreheimaginedEmma,dressedashehadseenher,andhestartedtoundressherinhismind.

'Oh,I'llhaveher!'hecried,strikingoutattheearthwithhisstick.

TwoweekslateritwasthedayofthefamousYonvilleAgriculturalShow,the most important event of the year. On the morning of the great day, theinhabitants were all out on their doorsteps discussing the arrangements. ThefrontoftheTownHallhadbeendecorated,atenthadbeenputupforthelunch,andthewholetownwasalivewithactivity.

ThecrowdpouredintotheHighStreetfrombothendsofthevillage.Whatcaused the greatest admiration were two tall poles covered with tiny lamps,standing beside the platform where the most important guests would sit.MadameLefrancois, the landladyof theLiond'Or, andMonsieurHomais, thepharmacist,stoodonthestepsofthehotelwatchingthegrowingcrowdandthemengoinginandoutoftheCafedeFrance-themaincompetitiontotheLiond'Or.

'Well,thatwon'tlastmuchlonger,'shesaid.'Onemoreweekandthatwillbetheendofit.'

Homaislookedatherinsurpise.Shewalkeddownherthreesteps.

'What!'shesaid,speakingintohisear.'Didn'tyouknow?They'regoingtohavetoclosedownandmovethisweek.It'sLheureuxthat'smakingthemdoit,he'sgotthemsodeepintodebt!'AndMadameLefrancoisbegantotellMonsieurHomaishowthedraperhadlenttheownersoftheCafedeFrancemoremoneythantheycouldeverpayback,andnowtheywerehavingtoselleverything.

'Look!'shesaid.'Thereheis,Lheureux-overthere,inthemarket.Look!

He'sbowingtoMadameBovary.Dolook!She'sgotagreenhaton.Doyouseeher?She'sleaningonMonsieurBoulanger'sarm.'

'MadameBovary!'saidHomais. 'Oh,Imustgooverandsayhowdoyoudotoher!Shemightliketohaveaseatontheplatform.'

Rodolphesawhimcomingandwalkedmorequicklybutthen,asMadameBovarywasgettingoutofbreath,hesloweddown.

'Iwantedtoavoidthatfool-youknow,thatchemistfellow,'hesaidtoherwithalaugh.

Emmasmiledathim.

'Whatdoesthatsmilemean?'hewondered.'Isshemakingfunofme?'Andhelookedatheroutofthecornerofhiseyeastheywalkedonmorequickly.

When they reached the corner,Rodolphe, instead of going right into thesquare,suddenlyturneddownaside-path,draggingEmmawithhim.

'Goodevening,MonsieurLheureux,'hecalledout.'Seeyoulater.'

'Youdidthatverywell!'saidEmma,laughing.

'WhyshouldI let thesepeoplebotherme?Andtodayofalldays,whenIhavethelucktobewithyou...'

Emmablushed.Hedidnot finishhis sentence.Thenhe remarkedon thefineweather,andsaidhowniceitwastowalkonthegrasswheresmallyellowflowershadsprungup.

'Look,' he said, 'young girls in love use these to see if they are loved.SupposeIpickedoneofthese.Whatdoyouthinkitwouldtellme?'

'Areyouinlove?'shesaid,withalittlecough.

'Ah!Whoknows?'answeredRodolphe.

Themarketsquareandthefieldsaroundcontinuedtofillupwithpeople.Thejudgingwasnowgoingonandthefarmers,lineduponeafteranother,were

allcrowding intoa ring.Therewere thefarmanimals ina long, irregular line.Amongthesleepypigsandcows,bare-armedmenwereholdingontogreatmalehorseswhichpulledwithalltheirstrengthinthedirectionofthefemales.Thesestood quite still, holding their heads down, while their young rested in theirshadows.

By now, Emma and Monsieur Boulanger had come round to the field.They discussed the people they saw, howPariswas somuchmore interestingthanaplacelikeYonville,andtheylaughedatthefashionsofthefarmers'wives.

'Butanyway,'hesaid,'whenyouliveinthecountry-'

'What'sthepointoflookinggood?'

'Iagree,'answeredRodolphe.'Notoneofthesepeopleknowswhenacoatiswellcutandwhenitisn't.'

Andtheyagreedthatlifeawayfromtownwashardlyworthliving.

'Whichiswhy,'saidRodolphe,'Iamsosadattimes.'

'You!'shebrokeinwithamazement. 'I thoughtyouhadnothingtoworryabout!'

'Ah,yes,itseemsso,butwecannotalwaysshowtheworldwhowereallyare,ourtrueselves.WheneverIlookatacemeterybymoonlight,IaskmyselfifIwouldn'tbehappierlyingthereasleepwiththerestofthem.'

'Butwhataboutyourfriends?Youdon'tthinkofthem.'

'Myfriends?Whatfriends?WhatfriendshaveIgot?Whocaresaboutme?'

Sotheywalkedonarminarm,ignoringthearrivaloftheguestsofhonour,Emmaleaningagainstthisstrongmanwithsuchpaininhisheart.Asthecrowdgatheredtohearthespeeches,Rodolphe,accompaniedbyMadameBovary,wentupontothefirstfloorof theTownHall intotheemptycouncilmeetingroom.Hefetchedtwochairsand,bringingthemcloseuptothewindow,theysatdownsidebyside.

Assoonasthespeechesbegan,peoplequieteneddownalittle,andEmma

leanedforwardtoseebetter.

'I'dbettergetabitfartherback,'saidRodolphe.

'Why?'askedEmma.

'They might see me from down below. And then I would have to giveexplanationsforatleastafortnight,andwithmyreputation...'

'Oh,you'remakingyourselfsoundmuchworsethanyouare,'saidEmma.

'No,no;it'shorrible,Itellyou!'

Thevoiceofthenextspeakerwentonlikeanangryinsectinthehotsun.

'But,'addedRodolphe,'theworldmayberight.'

'Whatdoyoumean?'sheasked.

'Well,'hesaid,'don'tyouknowthattherearesomepeoplewhoareneveratpeace; peoplewho desire dreams and action, thewildest pleasures - but afterpassioncomesregret!'

She looked at him as if he were a traveller who has journeyed throughstrangeandfar-offlands.

'Wepoorwomen,weneverhavesuchgoodreasonsforregret,'shesaid.

'Ah,buttobehaveasbadlyasIhavedoesnotmakeyouanyhappier!'

'Butdoesoneeverfindhappiness?'

'Yes,oneday,'hereplied.

The speaker continued topraise the farmers, their animals and their richfields. Some listened and some began to sleep in their seats, heads fallingforwardinthesummerheat.

'Yes,' saidRodolphe, 'youdon'thave to thinkabout it;onedayyoumeetsomeone,andthehorizonopensupinfrontofyou.Therearenomorequestions.It'sasifyouhavealreadymetoneanotherinyourdreams.'(Herehelookedat

Emma.) 'There in front of you is the jewel you have been looking for; therebeforeyoureyes.Nevertheless,youdarenotbelieveit;youcannotseeclearly,itisasifyouhadjuststeppedoutofthedarknessintothelight.'

Andashesaidthis,Rodolphepassedhishandoverhisface,thenheletitfall onEmma's,who took hers away. Still the speaker read on, praising thosewhodidtheirdutyontheland.

'Ah, there he goes again!' saidRodolphe. 'Duty, duty - always duty! I'msicktodeathoftheword!Wemustfollowourhearts-thatisourtrueduty!'

'Yes,but-but-'saidMadameBovary,'don'tyoualsothinkwemustfollowthelawsofsociety?'

'Ah!But there are two laws,' he replied. 'There is the little, unimportantman-madelaw,alwayschanging,madebyfools like thatonedownthere.Andthereistheother,whichneverchangesandisallaroundus,likethecountrysideandtheblueheavensthatgiveuslight.'

The whole square was now crowded with people. They could be seenleaningontheirelbowsateverywindow,othersstandingattheirdoors.Inspiteofthesilence, thespeaker'svoicewaslost intheair.Itroseinbrokenphrases,interruptedhereandtherebythesoundofchairsonthestones.

Rodolphe had moved nearer to Emma, and said to her in a low voice,speaking rapidly, 'Don't society's demands disgust you? The best feelings, thepurest thoughts are attacked, controlled, and if at last two souls domeet, theycannotunite.Theywilltry,theywillcallouttoeachother.Butsoonerorlater-insixmonths,tenyears-theywillcometogether,theywilllove;theyarebornforeachother.'

LiftinghisfacetowardsEmma,helookedcloselyather.Shenoticedinhiseyessmallgoldenlinescomingfromthedarkcentre,shesmelttheperfumeonhishair,andshehalfclosedhereyestobreatheitin.Shetookoffhergloves,shewipedherhands,thentriedtocoolherfacewithherhandkerchief.Throughthesoundofherbloodbeatinginherears,sheheardthesoundofthecrowdandthevoiceofthespeakertellingthemtoworkharder,tobegoodcitizens.

NowRodolphetookherhandandshedidnottakeitaway.Asthenamesofthe prizewinners in the showwere read out below, he told her he had never

loved anyone before her, and he would love her for the rest of his life. Hepressedherhand,and felt itswarmthand life - likeabirdheld foramoment,perhapstryingtoescape,perhapsresponding.

'Oh,thankyou,thankyou!'hecried.'Youdonotrejectme.Howsweetyouare!YouknowthatIamyours.'

Suddenly the wind rose, shaking the curtains and causing the peasantwomen in the square to hold on to thewings of theirwhite hats.The speakerbegan to speakmore quickly,more enthusiastically, but neither Rodolphe norEmmawerelistening.Theysatandlookedintoeachother'seyes.Theirlipsweredry,theirbodiesfullofdesire,andEmmanolongerfeltaneedtoresist.Downinthesquarethespeakerscontinued,theprizesweregiven.Thecelebrationswouldbeoversoon.

MadameBovarytookRodolphe'sarm,andhewalkedwithherbacktoherhouse.Theysaidgoodbyeatherfrontdoor,afterwhichhewentandwalkedinthefieldsneartheriver.

CHAPTERTEN

PresentsforaLover

Sixweekswentby, andRodolphedidnot contactEmma. 'Imustnotgobacktoosoon,'hehadsaidtohimself.'Itwouldbeamistake.'

Theweekaftertheshow,hewentoffshooting.Whenthehuntingwasoverhewondered if he had left it too long, but then he thought to himself, 'If shelovedmefromthefirstday,bynowshewill lovemeevenmore.Iwill letherwait.'

Whenhesawhowpaleshebecamewhenheenteredtheroom,heknewhehadmadetherightdecision.

Shewasaloneand itwasgettingdark.Rodolpheremainedstanding,andEmmawasbarelyabletoanswerhisfirstgreeting.

'I'vebeenbusy,'hesaid.'Ihaven'tbeenwell.'

'Nothingserious?'sheaskedquickly.

'Oh, well, no,' said Rodolphe, sitting down. 'I didn't want to come hereagain.'

'Why?'

'Can'tyouguess?'

Helookedatheragain,butwithsuchalookoflovethatsheloweredhereyeswithablush.

'Emma!'hebeganagain.

'Sir!'shecried,movingbackalittle.

'Ah! You see perfectly well now that I was right not to return,' he saidsadly, 'but I havebeen thinkingof you; thinking and thinking till I've become

almostmad.Ah,forgiveme!I'llgoaway-faraway-andyouwillneverhearofme again. But today, somehow, it seemed that something, I don't knowwhat,mademe come to you.Who canhelp falling in lovewith someonewho is sobeautiful,socharming?'

Itwas the first time inher lifeEmmahadheard suchwords.She turnedtowardshimwithtearsinhereyes.

'Oh,howkindyouare!'shesaid.

'No,'hesaid,'Iloveyou,that'sall.YouknowIdo,don'tyou?Tellmeyouknowit-justoneword,onelittleword!'AndRodolphebegantogodownonhisknees.Buttherewasanoiseofsomeonemovingaroundinthekitchen,andhenoticedthatthedoorwasnotclosed.

'Itwouldbesokindofyou,'hesaid,gettingup, 'ifyoucould letmeseeyourhouse.It'ssuchacharmingplace.'

MadameBovary said shewouldbehappy todo this, and theywere justgettingupwhenCharlescamein.

'Good morning, Doctor,' said Rodolphe. 'Madame,' he continued, 'wastalkingtomeaboutherhealth.Iwassayingthatalittlehorseridingmightbeagoodthing.'

'Anexcellentidea...Youshoulddothat,darling.'

When she replied that she had no horse,Monsieur Rodolphe offered tolendherone.Sherefused,andhedidnotinsist.Andthatwastheendofthevisit.

'Whydidn'tyouacceptMonsieurBoulanger'soffer? Itwasverygoodofhim,'saidCharleswhentheywerealone.

Shesaidthatperhapspeoplewouldthinkitratherodd.

'Well,whocaresaboutthat?'saidCharles.'Health,that'sthemainthing.Itwassillyofyou.'

'And how do you expect me to go riding when I haven't got the rightclothes?'

'Wewillgetyousome,'hereplied.

ThepromiseofnewclotheswasenoughtomakeEmmachangehermind.

When Emma's riding clothes were ready, Charles wrote to MonsieurBoulangersayingthathiswifecouldgoanytime,andthattheyweregratefulforhiskindoffer.

Next day,Rodolphe appeared atCharles's doorwith two horses.He hadput on a pair of new riding-boots, telling himself that she had certainly neverseenanythinglikethembefore,andEmmawascharmedwiththewayhelooked.

Assoonashefeltthegrassunderhim,Emma'shorsestartedtomovemorequickly, and Rodolphe came along beside her. Every now and then theyexchangedawordortwo.Sherodewithherheadalittleforward,herhandwellupandherrightarmstretchedout,andsheletherselffollowthemovementsofthehorse.Theyrodeonlikethisforfifteenortwentyminutesuntil,atthetopofasmallhill,thehorsesstopped.

It was early in October, and a thin mist was spread over the land.Sometimes thesunwouldshine throughabreak in thecloudsand lightup thedistant roofs ofYonville,with thegardensnear thewater, theyards, thewallsandthechurch.Emmahalfclosedhereyestoseeherhouse,andneverhadthispoorvillageinwhichshelivedseemedsosmall.

Afteramoment,RodolpheandEmmaturnedoffandrodealongtheedgeofthewood.Sheturnedawayherheadeverynowandagaintoavoidhiseyes,andsawonlythetrunksofthetrees.Justastheyenteredthewood,thesuncameout.

'Godiswithus!'saidRodolphe.

'Youthinkso?'sheanswered.

'Comeon!Comeon!'washisreply.

The path narrowed as theywent into thewood, and sometimes, to keepaway the branches, he rode close up to her and Emma felt his knee rubbingagainst her leg.The skywasbluenow, andnot a leafmoved.Theygot downfrom their horses and Emmawalked a little further down the path. Rodolphe

cameupbehindher,stretchedouthisarmandputitroundherwaist.Shemadeanefforttobreakaway,buthecontinuedtoholdher,sosheturnedandwalkedbacktowardswheretheyhadstopped.

'Oh,stay!'saidRodolphe.'Wemustnotgoyet!Stay!'

And he took her to a little pool, whose surfacewas coveredwith smallgreenwaterplants.

'Itiswrongofme!Wrong,wrong!'shecried.'Iammadtolistentoyou.'

'Why?Emma!Emma!'

'Oh,Rodolphe!'shecried,droppingherheadagainsthisshoulder.

With a deep sigh she threwback her head, giving herwhite neck to hiskisses and, almost fainting, in tears, her whole body shaking with emotion,hidingherfaceinherhands,shesurrenderedherselftohim.

When evening began to fall the sun, shining through the branches, wasbrightinhereyes.Everywherewassilence.Shecouldfeelherheartasitbegantobeatagain,shecouldfeelthebloodmovingthroughherbodylikeastreamofmilk.And then, far, faraway,beyond thewood,on thehillsacross thevalley,sheheardacry,strangeanddistant,avoicethathungintheair,andshelistenedtoitinsilence.Rodolphewasstandingwithacigarbetweenhisteeth,cleaninghisfingernailswithasmallknife.

TheyreturnedtoYonvillebythewaytheyhadcome.Theysawthetracksoftheirhorsesinthesoil,sidebyside,andtherewerethesamebushesandthesame stones in the grass. Nothing about them had changed, but for hersomethinghadhappened,somethingmoresurprisingthanif themountainshadfallenintothesea.

Whenshewasaloneinherroomafterdinner,shelookedatherselfinthemirrorandwasamazedatherownface.Neverhadhereyes lookedsobig,sodark,sodeep.Itwasasifshehadbecomeanotherwoman.Andshekeptsayingtoherselfoverandoveragain,'Ihavealover,alover.'

Fromthat firstday theywrote toeachothereverynight.Emmatookherletter to the end of the garden near the river and put it in a gap in the wall.

Rodolphewouldcomeand take itandputanother in itsplace,andalwaysshecomplainedthathislettersweretooshort.

The time she hadwith himwas too short too, sowheneverCharleswascalledoutearly,Emmagotup,threwonsomeclothesandranthroughthefieldsto Rodolphe's house. At this early hour Rodolphe would still be asleep, andEmmaseemedlikeaspringmorningcomingintohisroom.Laughing,hewouldpull her towards him anddownon to his breast, and afterwards itwould takethemaquarter of anhour to saygoodbye.Emmawouldburst out crying; shewouldhavelikedtostaywithRodolphealwaysandneverleavehimanymore.Butoneday,whenshecameinunexpectedly,alookofannoyancepassedoverhisface.

'What'sthematter?'shesaid.'Don'tyoufeelwell?Tellme!'

Atfirsthesaidnothing,butthen,lookingveryseriousaboutit,hetoldherthathewasworriedabouttheseearlymorningvisits.Peoplewouldstarttalkingabouther.Theyneededanothermeetingplace.

RodolphesaidhewouldlookoutforahouseoutsideYonvillewheretheycould be together, but all through thewinter, three or four times aweek, andwhenitwasquitedark,theonlyplacetheycouldfindwasEmma'sgarden.TheywouldcometogetherthereafterCharleshadgonetosleep.Thecoldmadethemhold each other tighter; their eyes, though they could hardly see them in thegrowingdarkness,seemedbigger.Onwetnightstheywouldtakeshelterinthesurgery.ShewouldlightoneofthekitchencandlesandRodolphemadehimselfquiteathome.Thesightofthebookcaseandthedesk-everythingintheroom,infact -seemed toamusehim,andhecouldnotstophimself frommakingallsortsof little jokesaboutCharles.ThisdidnotpleaseEmma.Shewouldhavelikedhimtobealittlemoreserious,alittlemoredramatic.

ButRodolphefeltnoneedtochangehiswaysandwas,infact,becomingalittle bored with Emma's delicate emotions and sensitivities. She even talkedaboutwantinga ring -aproperweddingring -asasymbolof theirunion.Heneverspoke tohernowasheused to,saying thesweet, tender things thathadmadehercrywithhappiness.Heneverkissedherandheldherintheoldway.No! That great love of theirs, on whose waves she had been carried away,seemedtobegrowingshallowerbeneathher,likethewatersofariverinadrysummer,andnowshecouldseethemudthatlaybeneathit!

AsEmmagrew tounderstand that thisgreat loveaffairmightnotbe forever,Rodolphefoundherbecomingmoreandmoredistant,evencoolertowardshim.ForafewweekssheevenspentmoretimewithCharles,tryingtoseeifshecouldlovehimbetter.Butitwasnouse,andRodolphethoughttohimself,'She'llgetoverit.It'sjustoneofherlittleways.'

Hewasright.Allhehadtodowastokeepaway,tomisstheirmeetingforthreeorfournights,andonceagainhercomplaintsstoppedandshewashis!

So love began for them again. Often, in the middle of the day, Emmawouldtakeupapenandwritetohim.Andshedidnotonlysendletters,butalsopresents,smallexpensivethingsthatshecouldnotafford,andwhichshecouldnotaskherhusbandtobuy.

ItwasMonsieurLheureux,thedraper,whowasabletohelpherhere.AssoonasheheardthatMadameBovarywasbuyinggiftsforsomeone,hemadesurehemetherasoftenashecould.He toldherallabout the latestdeliveriesfromParis,wasveryhelpfulandneveraskedforhismoney.Emmafoundthisaveryeasywaytosatisfyherwishtopleaseherlover,andshetookfulladvantageof it.For example, shewanted tobuyRodolpheaveryhandsome ridingwhipthat was on show at an umbrella shop in Rouen. And next week, there wasMonsieurLheureuxputtingitonherdiningroomtable.

But the day after that, he came along with a bill for two hundred andseventyfrancs!Emmadidnotknowwhattodo.Allthedrawersinthedeskhadbeenemptiedout.Sheowedwages to theservants,andBovarywasanxiouslywaitingforapayment fromMonsieurDerozerays,who, inpreviousyears,hadalwayspaidhisdoctor'sbillsometimeinJuly.

AtfirstshemanagedtogetridofLheureux,butintheendhelostpatience.Hehadtopayhisbills,otherpeoplewereaskinghimforthemoney!Hewouldbeforcedtoaskhertoreturnthegoods.

'Verywell,takethem,'saidEmma.

'Oh,Iwasonlyjoking!'hereplied. 'Theonlythingthatworriesmeistheridingwhip.Iknow!I'llaskthedoctortoletmehaveitback.'

'No,don't!'shecriedout.

'Aha,I'vegotyou!'thoughtLheureuxtohimself.And,sureofbeingontherighttrack,hewentout,sayingunderhisbreath, 'Right!Weshallsee,weshallsee!'

Shewaswonderinghowshewasgoing togetoutof thisdifficultywhenthe maid came in and put a little packet on the table, 'From MonsieurDerozerays.'Emmatooktheenvelopeandtoreitopen.Itwasenoughmoneytopayherdebts!SheheardCharlescomingupthestairsand,withoutthinking,shethrewthemoneytothebackofthedrawer,lockedit,andtookoutthekey.

ThreedayslaterLheureuxreappeared.

'Iwanttosuggestanarrangement,'hesaid.'If,insteadofthesumagreed,youwould...'

'Thereyouare,'saidshe,puttingthefourhundredfrancsinhishand.Shewassafeforthemoment,butwhatwouldhappennexttime?Whatcouldshedotoescape?

HerdreamnowwastogoawaywithRodolphe.Onenightwhentheymetinthegarden,andshewasathersaddestandmostbeautiful,heaskedherwhathecoulddotohelpher,tobringbackthesmiletoherface.

'Whatmustwedo?Whatdoyouwant?'

'Takemeaway!'shecried.'Takemefromhere...Oh,Ibegyou!'

'But...'Rodolphebegan.

'Yes?'

'Whataboutyourlittlegirl?'

Shethoughtaminuteortwoandthenanswered,'We'lltakeherwithus.It'stheonlythingtodo.'

'Whatawoman!'hesaidtohimself,ashesawherdisappear.Someonewascalling.

ButnowEmmabelievedthatshewouldbeabletoescape,andthisbecame

heronly topicofconversationwithRodolphe.Shewould leanherheadonhisshoulderandwhisper,'Ah,whenweareinthecoach!Canyouimagineit?Isitpossible? It seems tome that themoment I feel itmoving, itwill be as ifweweregoingupinaballoon,asifweweregoingtotheclouds.Doyouknow,I'mcountingthedays!Aren'tyou?'

Never hadMadameBovary looked so beautiful as now.Charles thoughtherasdeliciousasonthedayshebecamehisbride.Whenhecamehomelateatnight,hedidnotdaretowakeher.Thenight-lampthrewaringof lightontheceilingasshelaysleepingbesideherdaughter.Charleswouldstandandlookatthem,dreamingofthefuture,ofhisbeautifulwifeandhisgrowingchild.ButhewasnotinEmma'sdreams;shewasheadingforanewlandinacoachpulledbyfourwhitehorsesandwithherloverbyherside.

She was so certain she would be leaving that she sent for MonsieurLheureuxandorderedaheavytravellingcoatandatravellingcase.Shetoldhimtokeepthethingsattheshopwhentheyarrived,andshewouldcollecttheminaweekor two. Itwas, in fact, the followingmonth that theywere going to runaway. She would leave Yonville as if she were going shopping in Rouen.Rodolphewouldhavebooked the seats, arranged thepassports, andwritten toParisinordertohavethemailcoachalltothemselvesasfarasMarseilles.TheretheywouldbuyacarriageandgorightthroughtoGenoa.Inallthisplanningthechildwasnevermentioned,andRodolpheavoidedanyreferencetoher;perhapsEmmahadgivenuptheideaoftakingher.

However,Rodolphe thenfoundheneededafortnight tocompletecertainbusinessmatters;then,afteraweek,heneededanotherfortnight.Thenhefoundhewasnotfeelingverywellsotherewasanotherdelay,andthenhewentawayonajourney.ThewholeofAugustwentbyandfinally,afterallthesedelays,thedateoftheirdeparturewasfixedfor4September,aMonday.

On the eveningof their lastSaturday inYonville,Rodolphe came to seeherearlierthanusual.

'Iseverythingready?'sheasked.

'Yes.'

'You'resad,'saidEmma.

'No.Why?'

'Is itbecauseyouaregoingaway?' shewenton. 'Leaving the thingsyoulove,thethingsthathavebeenyourlife?Ah,Iunderstand!ButI,Ihavenothingintheworld!Youareeverythingtome.AndsoIshallbeeverythingtoyou.'

'Oh,whatalovelynight!'saidRodolphe.

'Weshallhavemanymorenightstogether,'sheanswered.Andthen,asifspeakingtoherself,shewenton, 'Yes,itwillbegoodtotravel.Butwhyismyheartsosad?Isitfearoftheunknown...orthebreakwithallIhavebeenusedto?Orelse...?No, it isbecauseIamtoohappy inmyhappiness!HowweakIam!Forgiveme!'

'Thereisstilltime,'heexclaimed.'Think!Youmayregretitlater.'

'Never!'shecried.

Theclockstrucktwelve.

'Midnight!' she said. 'Tomorrow is already here!We have just onemoredaytowait!'

Herosetogo.

'You'vegotthepassports?'

'Yes.'

'Youhaven'tforgottenanything?'

'No.'

'You'resure?'

'Quitesure.'

'You'llbewaitingformeat theHoteldeProvence,won'tyou?Attwelveo'clock?'

Henodded.

'Tomorrow,then!'saidEmma,andshewatchedhimgo.

Hedidnotlookback.

AfterafewminutesRodolphestopped,andwhenhesawherwhitefiguredisappearintotheshadowshisheartbegantobeatsowildlythathehadtoleanagainstatreetokeephimselffromfalling.

'WhatafoolIam!But,nevermind,shewasafinelittlewoman!'Andashe said it, Emma's beauty, the thought of all the times they had had together,camebackintohismind.Foramomenttearscametohiseyes,butthenhefeltawaveofangeragainsther.'Afterall,'hecried,'Icouldn'tjustgoandburymyselfalivelikethat-andhavetolookafterthechildtoo!Andthinkoftheworry,theexpense!Ah,no,itwouldhavebeentoosilly!'

CHAPTERELEVEN

Goodbye

TheletterRodolphewrotethateveningendedwiththewords:

...Ishallbefarawaywhenyoureadthesesadlines.Ihavemadeupmymindtogoatonce,sothatIcannotseeyouagain!Ishallcomeback,nodoubt,andperhapsonedayweshalltalktogetherofthetimewhenwewerelovers.

YourFriend.

Asshereadthesewordsthenextmorning,Emma'sfirstthoughtwastokillherself.Lifenolongerhadmeaning;howcouldsheeatanothermeal,sitinthesame room as her husband?Rodolphe!How could she livewithout him?Theroom started to spin around her, nothing was still, she could not see, andeverythingwentblack.

ThenCharleswas shouting forhelp,Berthewas screaming,andFelicite,the maid, with shaking hands, was loosening her mistress's clothing. Emmaherselflaystretchedoutonthefloor,shakingfromheadtofoot.

'Speak!speak!'Charleskeptonsaying.'Emma!It'sme,yourownCharles,who loves you. Don't you know me? Here! Here's your little one. Kiss her,Emma!'

Thechildstretchedoutherarmstohermother,toputthemroundherneck.ButEmmaturnedawayherheadandcried,'No,no...Noone!'

She fainted away again. They carried her up to bed. She lay there, hermouthopen, her eyes shut, her handsopen, quite still.The tears ran fromhereyesontothepillow.

For forty-three daysCharles never left Emma's side.His patients had totakecareofthemselves.HecalledinMonsieurCanivet,inconsultation.HesenttoRouen forDrLariviere, hisoldmaster; hewasdesperate.What scaredhimmost was Emma's depressed condition. She did not speak, took no notice of

anything, anddidnoteven seem to suffer - as ifher soulandbodywerebothrestingaftertheshockthroughwhichtheyhadpassed.

AbouthalfwaythroughOctobershewasabletositupinbed,supportedbypillows.Charlescriedwhenhesawhereatingherfirstpieceofbreadandjam.She began to recover her strength and got up for an hour or two in theafternoons,andoneday,whenshewasfeelingmuchbetter,hepersuadedhertowalkalittleinthegarden,leaningonhisarm.Sotheywent,arminarm,tothebottomof thegardenand its lowwall.Slowlyshe lookedupand, shadinghereyeswithherhand,shelookedaway,far,faraway,intothedistance.Buttherewasnothingontheskylineexceptthesmokeofburninggrassonthehills.

She turned back to look into the garden, and remembered Rodolphe,rememberedtheirnightsofloveinthisplace,andfellbackintoCharles'sarms,seeingnothing.Thatnightshewasasillasbefore,thoughthistimeherconditionwasmorecomplicated.Firstitwasherheartthattroubledher.Thenherchest,orherhead.Thenshehadattacksofvomiting,whichCharlesthoughtmightbetheearlysignsofcancer.Andontopofallthistrouble,thepoormanwasworriedaboutmoney.

First,hedidnotknowhowhewasgoingtopayMonsieurHomaisforallthemedicines he had had from him.And the bills kept pouring in.MonsieurLheureux,thedraper,wasespeciallydifficult.Infact,whenEmma'sillnesswasat itsworst,Lheureux, takingadvantageof thesituation,had rushedoverwiththe coat, the travelling bag, two travelling boxes instead of one, and otherunordereditemsaswell!Charles,ofcourse,saidhehadnouseforthem,butitwasnogood;thegoodshadbeenordered,andthedraperwasnotgoingtotakethemback. In theend,Bovaryfoundhimselfsigningadocumentpromising topay in sixmonths - and thenborrowinganother thousand francs!SoCharles'sproblems worsened, while Lheureux was delighted to have both husband andwifeinhisdebt.Hesawitasagoodinvestment.

Charlesoftenwonderedhowhewasgoingtopayallthismoneybacknextyear.He thoughtand thought;maybehe shouldaskhis father forhelp,or sellsomething.Buthisfatherwouldnotlisten,andhe-well,hehadnothingtosell.Andthenthewholesituationbegantolooksoblackthathehurriedlypusheditoutofhismind.

Thewinterwas a hard one, andEmma took longer to recover this time.

Whentheweatherwasfine,theypushedherchairuptothewindow,sothatshecouldlookoutonthesquare.Shehadnowtakenaviolentdisliketothegarden,and the curtains on that side were always closed. Now she passed her timereading religious texts which the priest brought for her, and Rodolphe waspushed back into a hidden place in her heart. And although her recoverycontinued,shewassomuchchangedthatsheevenenjoyedthecompanyoftherespectablemarriedwomenofYonville.

Whenthespringcame,shehadthewholegardentornupfromendtoend.Her old energy had begun to return as her health improved, and althoughMonsieurBournisien,thepriest,stillcontinuedtovisithereveryday,shewenttochurchlessoften.Shebegantoenjoytimespentoutofdoors,lookingoverthenew garden, even sitting outside with Charles and Monsieur Homais in thewarmerevenings.Itwasononeof theseevenings,asMonsieurHomais talkedabout the pleasures one could gain from literature andmusic, that the idea ofgoing to seeLuciadiLammermoorat the theatre inRouenwas raised.Emmawasagainsttheideaatfirst,butCharlesfeltthatthechangewoulddohergood,and he wanted to give her a little pleasure, despite his debts and their otherworries. SoMonsieur andMadame Bovary drove in to Rouen on the Fridaycoachandgotdownat theHotelde laCroixRouge, in theplaceBeauvoisine.Leaving Emma at the hotel, Charles at once went out to buy tickets for thetheatre.

CHAPTERTWELVE

AVisittotheTheatre

Emmawaspleasedthatherhusbandhadboughtgoodseats,andwhenshesatdownshecouldnotresistalittlesmileofprideasshelookedattheordinarypeopledownbelow.Soonthecandleswerebeinglit,themusiciansweretakingtheirplacesandtheoperawasstarting.Whentheybegantoplay,shelostherselfinthemusic,hereyesalmostblindedbytherichnessofthecolours,thebeautyof the singers. And their voices, their beautiful bodies dressed in the finestclothesyoucouldimagine,theirnobleemotions-itwastoomuch!

PoorCharles,however,couldunderstandnoneofit.

'Whyishesounkindtoher?'hewhispered.

'Butheisn't,'sheanswered.'He'sherlover.'

Emmatriedtoexplainaswellasshecould,butheconfessedthathecouldnotfollowthestorybecauseallthismusicstoppedhimfromhearingthewords.

'Whatdoesitmatter?'saidEmma.'Bequiet!'

'Well, you see,' he answered, leaning over on her shoulder, 'I like tounderstandthings;youknowIalwaysdo.'

'Oh,pleasebequiet!'shecriedimpatiently.

SoCharlessatinsilencewhileEmmabecamemoreandmoreinvolvedinthestoryofthetragicheroine,astorywhichmadeherthinkaboutherownlife.As the singer came to the front of the stage, supported by herwomen,whiteflowers in her hair, and as pale as death, Emma began dreaming of her ownmarriage. She sawherself back again on the little footpath,when she and herfatherweremakingtheirwaytothechurch.Whyhadshenotfoughtagainstherfather,asLuciahaddone?Instead,shehadbeenhappyandlight-hearted,neverrealizinghowshewasthrowingherselfaway!

The curtain fell at the end of the first act. Emmawanted to go out; thecorridorswerecrowdedwithpeople,andshesankbackinherseatfeelingasifshecouldnotbreathe.Charlesthoughtshewasgoingtofaint,andrushedofftothe bar to get her a glass ofwater.When he returnedwith thewater, he alsobroughtthenewsthathehadseenMonsieurLeon.

'Leon?'

'Themanhimself!He'scomingroundinaminutetoseeyou!'

Andbeforethesewordswereoutofhismouth,theex-clerkfromYonvillecame and sat beside her.He put out his hand, andMadameBovary gave himhers,mechanically, as ifobeying some forceof attraction shecouldnot resist.Shehadnotfeltthishandsincethatspringeveningwhentherainwasfallingonthegreenleavesandtheysaidgoodbyestandingbesidethewindow.

'Oh,howdoyoudo?Imagineit!Youhere?'

They could not talk now, as the opera had begun again, but from thatmomentshestopped listening.Everythingseemed tobe takingplace faraway,likethesoundofmusicfromadistantroom.

As soon as theoperahad finished, all threeof themwent and sat in theopen air, outside a cafe. They began by talking about her illness, EmmainterruptingCharleseverynowand thenfor fear,shesaid,ofboringMonsieurLeon.ThenLeontoldthemhowhewasgoingtospendtwoyearsinalawyer'soffice here in Rouen. He said that he needed the experience as the work inNormandywasverydifferentfromthekindofthinghehadbeendoinginParis.

Peoplecomingawayfromthetheatrepassedalonginfrontofthemonthepavement, somestill singing the tunes fromtheopera.AlthoughLeonhadnotbeen impressed by the leading male singer, Charles (who had begun tounderstandthingsbettertowardstheendoftheshow)hadappreciatedhisvoiceandsaidhewouldlovetohearhimagain.

'Oh,well,'saidLeon,'he'llbegivinganotherperformancesoon.'

But Charles replied that they were going home in the morning. 'Unlessyou'dliketostayalittlelongerbyyourself,'headded,turningtohiswife.

WhenLeonsawthat therewasachanceEmmamightbeable tostay,hebegantopraisethesinger,andCharlesbecameevenmorecertainthatshemuststayinRouenforanextranight.

'YoucancomebackonSunday.It'ssillyofyounottostay,ifyoufeelit'sdoingyoueventheslightestbitofgood.'

And so it was arranged that Charles would return to Yonville in themorning,andLeonwouldgototheoperawithMadameBovaryonthefollowingevening.

Since leaving Yonville, Leon had not forgotten Emma. In Paris, he hadworkedathisstudiesandhadnothadthewildtimehehadimagined.Ithadbeenahappybutunexcitingperiod,andhehadsometimesdreamedof the lovethatmighthavebeenbetweenthem.Seeingheragain,afterthreelongyears,allhishopesreturned.This timehe thoughthereallywouldhave tobring things toaconclusion.Hewas less shy now,more sure of himself, and after his time inParishefeltquiteconfidentthathecouldhavehiswaywiththiscountrydoctor'swife.Hewouldnothavebeenbraveenough tomake theattempt inParis,butawayfromthecapitalhehadthecourage.

When theymet the followingafternoon,hedidhisbest tomakehimselfinterestingtoher.Hetalked,therefore,abouthowunhappyhehadbeensinceheleftYonville,andhowhisdreamshadbeendisappointed.

'If youonlyknew,' she said, 'thedreams that I havedreamed.'And tearsshoneinherbeautifuleyesassheraisedthemtotheceiling.

'AndI,too!'criedLeon.'Ioftenwentout,tryingtolosemyselfinthenoiseofthecrowd,butIwasneverabletogetyououtofmythoughts.'

MadameBovaryturnedawayherheadsothatheshouldnotseethesmileshe feltonher lips.She lethimspeak, sayingnothing,waiting forhim to saywhatshewantedtohear.Shedidnothavetowaitlong.

'And,'hewenton,'IwroteyousomanylettersthatIneversent.'

'Butwhy?'sheasked.

'Why?'Andhehesitatedamoment.'BecauseIlovedyou!'

Congratulatinghimselfforhavingsaidthewords,Leonwatchedheroutofthecornerofhiseye.

Itwaslikelookingattheskyafterthesunhaschasedawaytheclouds.Herwholefacewaslitupwithjoy.

Hewaited,andatlastshesaid,'Ialwaysthoughtyoudid.'

Thentheytalkedaboutall thethingsthathadhappenedwhenhelivedinYonville.Theyspokeoftheflowersinhergarden,thedressessheusedtowear,thefurnitureinherbedroom,andofallthethingsinandaroundthehouse.Theytalked and talked, and before they realized how time had passed, itwas eighto'clock.

Sherosetolightthecandles;thenshecameandsatdownagain.

'Well?'saidLeon,andhereachedoutand touchedherhand. 'Whatcouldstopusfrombeginningalloveragainnow?'

'No,myfriend,'shereplied.'Iamtooold...youaretooyoung...Forgetallaboutme.Otherswillloveyou...andyouwilllovethem.'

'NotasIloveyou,'hecried.

'Whatachildyouare!Wehavetobesensible!Imeanit!'

Andshedidmeanit-sheintendedtokeepherdistance,toberesponsible.Shehadsuffered toomuchtowant toopen thosewoundsagain.However,shewasnotpreparedforLeon'sshyness.IfhehadbeenanotherRodolphe,itwouldhavebeeneasy; shecouldhavepushedhimawaywithout aneffort.ButLeonwassobeautiful,sofullofdesireforher-shecouldseeit inhiseyes-butsogentle, shedidnot knowwhat todo.Whenhe tookher face inhis hands andkissedher,shecouldnotresist,becausehediditwithoutforce,withsuchcare.Butstill,shecouldnotletthishappen!

Soshelookedattheclockabovethefireplaceandsaid,'Heavens,lookatthetime!Wehaveforgottenallaboutthetheatre!AndImustgobacktomypoorhusbandtomorrow,sothereismylastchancegone!'

'Areyoureallygoingback?'saidLeon.

'Iam.'

'ButImustseeyouagain,'hesaid.'IhadsomethingIwantedtotellyou...'

'Whatisit?'

'Something...Oh,somethingveryserious,veryimportant!Ah,butno!Youwon'tgoback.Youcan't.Ifyouonlyknew...Listen,youmustn'tgolikethis!Letmeseeyouagain,Ibegyou.Once,justonce!'

'Well...'Andshestopped.Andthen,asifonsecondthoughts,shesaid,'Oh,no.Nothere!'

'Whereveryoulike.'

'Will you...?' She seemed to be thinking. Then suddenly she said,'Tomorrow,ateleven,inthecathedral.'

'Ishallbethere,'hecried,takingbothherhands.

But that night Emma wrote a long, long letter, excusing herself frommeetinghim.Itwasallovernow,and,fortheirownsakes,itwouldbebetterforthemnot tomeet.Butwhen the letterwas sealedup, she realized shedid notknowLeon'saddress.

'Iwillgiveittohimmyself,'shesaid.'Heissuretocome.'

Leonarrivedearlyatthecathedral,andhadtowaitinthecoolshadowsforwhatseemedlikehours.Suddenly,ataroundeleveno'clock,therewasthesoundofsilkupon thestones, theshadowofahaton thewall... ItwasEmma!Leonroseandwenttomeether.

Emmawaspale,andshewaswalkingquickly.

'Readthis!'shesaid,holdingoutapaper.Butthen,seemingtochangehermind,shecriedout,'Ohno!Nevermind!'

Andshequicklytoreawayherhand,andwentoutintothesunshineagain.Shedidnotknowwhattodo,howtogoon.Shewantedtobehere,tobewithhim,andatthesametimetofly,flyaway.

Leon followed, feeling that his love was in danger of disappearing likesmoke.Wantingtotakebackcontrolofthesituation(whichhefeltwasslippingthroughhisfingers),hedecidedtohireoneofthecarriageswhichwerewaiting.Theycoulddriveaway,betogetherinthisprivate,darkspace.Theycouldnotgotohisroom,nortohers,soacarriage,hiredfortheday,wouldbetheirshelter.

'Leon,really...Idon'tknowwhetherIought.It'snottheproperthingtodo.Youknowitisn't!'

'Whynot?'answeredtheclerk.'It'sdoneinParis.'

Emmahadnoreplytothis.

'Whereto,sir?'saidthedriver.

'Whereveryoulike,'saidLeon,pushingEmmainside;andsotheysetoff,firstgoingdownto thebridgeover theriver, thenacross themainsquare,pastthetownhallandstoppingbesideastatue.

'Keepgoing,'saidavoicefrominside.

Thecarriagestartedagainand, following thedownhill roadafter leavingthecentreoftown,itdroveatfullspeedintothesquareinfrontoftherailwaystation.

'No,no,straighton!'shoutedthevoiceagain.

The driver took them out of town through the big gates, down to thewaterside.Alongbytheriverthevehiclewent,towardsthelittletownofOyssel.

Andonandonwentthecarriage,withitssweatingdriverandtiredhorse.Eachtimetheystopped,theman'svoicecriedout,'Driveon,driveon!'until,ataboutsixintheevening,thecarriagestoppedinasidestreetandawomangotout.Shewalkedawaywithher facehidden, lookingneither to the rightnor totheleft.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

LoveOnceMore

When she got back to her hotel, Emma was shocked not to find theYonvillecoach.Thedriverhadwaitedfifty-threeminutes,andhadatlastsetoffwithouther.Althoughtherewasnostrongreasonwhysheshouldgohome,shehadpromisedthatshewouldbebackthatevening,andsheknewCharleswouldbe expecting her. In her heart shewas also feeling guilty for her afternoon oflovewithLeon.Goinghome this eveningwas an easywayofmakingherselffeelbetteraboutwhatshehad justdone.Soshe threwher things intoherbag,paidherbill,hiredasmallcarriagefromthehoteland,tellingthedrivertodrivelike thewind,managed to catch upwith the coach just as itwas driving intoQuincampoix.

Shehadhardlysunkintohercornerwhensheclosedhereyes,anddidnotopen them again till they were at the bottom of the hill. Some way off, sherecognized hermaid, Felicite, whowaswaiting for her at the entrance to thevillage.

The driver pulled in to the side, and themaid called up to hermistress,'Madame,youmustgoatoncetoMonsieurHomais.Somethingveryurgent!'

The village was as quiet as usual, but when she went into MonsieurHomais' house she found the pharmacist waiting for her with a seriousexpressiononhisface.

'Madame,IfearIhavebadnewsforyou.Yourfather-in-lawisdead!'

In fact, Monsieur Bovary senior had died the previous evening quitesuddenly justaftergettingupfromdinner.AsCharleswasanxious thatEmmashouldnotbeupset,hehadaskedMonsieurHomaistobreakthenewstoher.Hehad thought it might be less of a shock if it came from someone outside thefamily. Although Charles's thought was kind, Emma was not, in fact, greatlyupset,andwentimmediatelytoherhouse.

WhenheheardEmmaknock,Charlescameforwardtogreetherwithopen

armsandsaid,withtearsinhisvoice,'Ah!Mydear...'

Hebentdowntokissher,butat thetouchofhislips, thememoryofherlovertookholdofherandshepassedherhandoverherfacetohideherlookofdisgust.Nevertheless,shemanagedtosay,'Yes,Iknow...Iknow...'

He showedher the letter inwhichhismother told him the news.Emmagave the letter back, and at dinner, out of politeness, pretended to have noappetite.Butasheencouragedher,sheforcedherself toeat,whileCharlessatfacingherinmotionlesssorrow.Everynowandthenhewouldraisehisheadandlookathersadly.Oncehesaid, 'IwishIcouldhaveseenhimonemore time!'Shemadenoanswer.Then,realizingthatsomesortofcommentwasrequiredofher,sheasked,'Howoldwasyourfather?'

'Fifty-eight.'

'Oh!'

Andthatwasall.

Aquarterofanhourafterwardsheadded,'Poormother!Whatwillhappentohernow?'

Emmahadnoidea,andmadeasilentgesture.

Feelingthathersilencewastheresultofsorrowatthenews,Charlesmadeanefforttobemorecheerful.

'Didyouhaveagoodtimeyesterday?'

'Yes,'shereplied.

When the table was cleared, neither Bovary nor Emma moved. As shecontinued to lookathim, she found that shecouldnotpityhim.He seemedaweak thing, a poor man in every way. How could she get rid of him? Theeveningwouldbeendless!

NextdayCharles'smotherarrived,andtheweepingstartedagain.Emmasaid she had a lot of things to organize andwent out. Charles thought of hisfather,andhewassurprisedatfeelingsoaffectionatetowardshim.Hehadnever

thoughthelovedhisfather.MadameBovarysenioralsothoughtofherhusband.It was all over now, and even the worst of her days with him were pleasantmemories.

Whilethesonthoughtabouthislostfather,Emmathoughtthatonlyforty-eight hours earlier she and Leon were together, with the world shut out,drowninginlove,amazedbyeachother'sbeauty.Shetriedtorecoverthedetailsofthatlostdayofhappinessandpleasure.Shewouldhavelikedtohearandseenothingnewinordernottoloseamomentofremembereddelight,butshefoundthatherhusbandsnoisysorrowwasdrivingitallfromhermemory.

Thenextafternoon,whenallthreeofthemweresittinginthegarden,theysawMonsieurLheureuxcomingthroughthegate.Hehadheardofthesadevent,andhadcometovisit them.Afterhehadexpressedhissorrowattheirloss,hesaid toCharles, 'CouldIhaveawordinprivatewithyourwife?It'sabout thatmatter,er...youknow!'

Charles blushed to the roots of his hair as he answered, 'Ah, yes... ofcourse.Darling,doyouthink...?'

Sheseemedtounderstand,andgotup.

'It'snothing!'saidCharlestohismother.'Onlyalittlehouseholdmatter.'

As soon as they were alone, Monsieur Lheureux began to congratulateEmma on the money she and her husband would have now that MonsieurBovary'sfatherhaddied.

'Andasyouarewellagain,'hecontinued,'Iwascomingtomakeproposalsforanotherarrangement.'

What he in fact proposed was that Emma should take over theresponsibility for all the debts 'to stop her husband worrying'. Then she andMonsieurLheureuxwouldbeabletosettleallthedetails.

Shedidnotunderstand,soshesaidnothing.Lheureuxquicklyaddedthatthere were some things that Madame could not possibly do without. Forexample,hewouldsendheracrossadozenmetresofbeautifulblacksilkforadress.

'Theoneyouhaveonisgoodenoughforthehouse,butyouneedanotheroneforvisiting.Isawthatstraightaway,whenIcamein.'

He did not send the fabric; he brought it. Then he came back for themeasurements.Hekeptcomingback,doingeverythinghecouldtobeofuse,tomakehimselfliked.Andeverytimehecame,heremindedherthatsheshouldbethe one who managed the couple's legal and financial affairs. He nevermentionedtheoldbills,andsheneverletthementerherhead.Charlescertainlyhad said something about themwhen shewasbeginning to get better, but shehad somany things to worry her at the time that she thought nomore aboutthem.

Moreover, she avoided starting any discussion about money while hermother-in-lawwasthere.But,assoonasshehadleft,Emmabegantoamazeherhusbandwithherpracticalgood sense.They reallydidhave tomanage thingsbetter.Sheusedanumberoftechnicalterms,spokeimpressivelyaboutplanningfor the future, and nevermissed a chance of exaggerating how complicated itwouldbetomaketherightarrangements.Finally,sheputinfrontofhimonedaya formwhich gave her the power tomanage all his financial affairs. She hadprofitedwellfromLheureux'slessons.

Charles - good, simpleman - askedherwhere the formcame from.ShetoldhimithadbeenwrittenbyMonsieurGuillaumin,theYonvillelawyer,andthenadded,'ButIwouldn'ttrusthimfurtherthanIcouldseehim.Theselawyersarenearlyasbadasthecriminalstheyworkwith.Perhapsweoughttoconsult...No,there'snoone!'

'WhataboutLeon?'saidCharles,thinkinghard.

Hehad said exactly thenameEmmawantedhim to say.Nowshe couldsuggest that itwas difficult to explainmatters by letter, and she offered to goovertoRouenandspeaktohimdirectly.Charleswouldnothearoftroublingher.She insisted. Itwas a battle of kindness. Finally, she cried, 'Now, not anotherword,please!Iamgoing!'

'Howkindyouare!'hesaid,kissingherontheforehead.

ThenextmorningshewasofftoRoueninthecoach,toconsultMonsieurLeon.Shestayedforthreedays.

Theywerethreewonderfuldays.TheystayeddownneartheharbourattheHotel de Boulogne, and there they lived, with the curtains closed, the doorslocked, the floor covered with flowers, and iced drinks brought up everymorning.Towards evening theywould take aboat andgo andhavedinner ononeoftheislands.Astheyleftthetown,smokeroseupamongthetrees,andtheredsun,reflectedontheoilywateroftheharbour,lookedlikebloodonpolishedmetal.Theywentdownbetween therowsofboats,and thenoisesof the towngrewfainterandfainter.When,finally,theyarrivedattheirfavouriterestaurant,sheuntiedherhatandtheysteppedoutoftheboatontotheirisland.

Theywentintoasmallcafewithdarkfishing-netshungupatthedoor,andsat themselves down in the low-ceilinged room. They ate small fried fish,followedbycherriesandcream,andthenwentandsatonthegrass.Theykissedandheldoneanotherunderthetrees,outofview;theywouldhavelikedtoliveforeverinthatlittlespotwhich,intheirpresenthappiness,theythoughtthemostbeautiful place on earth. They had both seen trees before, and blue sky, andgrass.Itwasnotthefirsttimetheyhadheardthesoundofwaterandthemusicofthewindinthetrees,buttheyhadneverreallyadmiredthesethingstillnow.Itwasasifnaturehadnotreallyexistedbefore,orhadonlybeguntoshowitsbeautyaftertheyhadsatisfiedtheirdesires.

Whenitwasdark,theystartedforhomeagain.Theboatkeptclosetotheshoresofthelittleislands.Theydidnotspeak,butsatsilentlyinthebackoftheboat,listeningtothewater.EmmalookedacrossatLeon.Herheadwasraised,her hands were held together, her eyes raised to the sky. She was beautifultonight.ThenLeonputhishandonapieceofredribbonlyinginthebottomoftheboat.Theboatmantookitandexaminedit.

'Ah,'hesaidatlast,'maybeitbelongstooneofthepeopleItookoutafewdays ago. They were having fun I can tell you - ladies and gentlemen, withcakes, and bottles of wine. I remember one of them in particular. A fine,handsomeman he was, with a little moustache. Lord, he was funny, though!Theykepton saying, "Comeon, tellusanother...Adolphe...Rodolphe..."Yes,Rodolphe,thatwashisname.'

Emmashookfromheadtofoot.

'What'sthematter?'saidLeon,movingcloser.

'Oh,it'snothing!Thenightairisalittlecool.'

'The sort of gentleman who has plenty of lady friends,' added the oldboatman.

Themorning after this last dinner on the island, Emma had to return toYonville, andLeon had to get back to his normal life inRouen.However, hefoundthisdifficultandhestartedignoringhisfriendsandnotlookingafterhisbusiness.Everydayhewaitedforherletters;hereadthemagainandagain,andhe wrote back to her immediately, remembering every detail of their timetogether. And unlike most memories, these did not seem to fade, but grewstronger.TheneedtoseeherbecamesogreatthatoneSaturdaymorningheranoutofhisofficeandtookthecoachtoYonville.

Whenhecametothetopof thehillabovethevillageand, lookingdownover thevalley,sawthechurch tower,hefelt likeamanwhohasgoneabroadandmadehisfortuneandnowreturnstovisithisnativevillage.Hewalkeddowntoherhouseandsawthattherewasalightinthekitchen.Hewatchedtoseeifhe could catch sight of her shadow behind the curtain. But nothing could beseen.

Madame Lefrancois met him, and could not believe her eyes. He haddinnerinthelittlediningroom,asintheolddays,butalone.Hethenwentandknockedatthedoctor'sdoor.Madamewasupstairsinherbedroom,anddidnotcomedownforaquarterofanhour.Thedoctorappeareddelightedtoseehimand,totheirregret,stayedathomeallthatdayandthenext.Theonlychancetoseeheralonecameverylateintheevening,inthelaneattheendofthegarden-the lanewheresheused tomeet 'theotherone'.Therewasa thunderstormandtheytalkedunderanumbrella,withlightningflashingallaroundthem.

Theirseparationwasbecomingimpossibletobear.'Iwouldratherbedead,'shesaid,holdinghim,withtearsinhereyes.

'Goodbye!Goodbye!WhenshallIseeyouagain?'

Theyturnedbackforonelastkiss,andshepromisedtofindsomewayofseeinghimregularly,atleastonceaweek.Shewasfullofhope.Shewouldsoonhavesomemoneytoplaywith.

In fact, shewassoonbehavingas if shehadall themoney in theworld.

Sheboughtapairofyellowcurtainsforherbedroom,whichMonsieurLheureuxhad toldherwereabargain.ShehaddreamsofacarpetandLheureux,sayingthattowantacarpetwasnotlikewishingforthemoon,helpedhertogetone.ShehadbeguntodependonLheureux.Shesentforhimtwentytimesaday,andheimmediatelystoppedwhathewasdoingandcametoseeMadame.ItwasadangerousfriendshipforEmma.

Itwasaboutthistime-aroundthebeginningofwinter-thatshesuddenlyappeared to develop a tremendous enthusiasm for music. One night, whileCharleswaslisteningtoher,shebeganthesamepieceoveragain,stoppingfourtimes, finding faultwith herself each time.He, never noticing any difference,cried,'Ohwelldone!Splendid!Whatdidyoustopfor?Goon!'

'Oh,no!It'stoobad!Myfingersfeelasiftheywerestiffwithrust!'

Nextdayhebeggedhertoplayhimsomethingmore.

'Oh,well,ifyouwantmeto.'

Charlesconfessedhehadheardherplaybetter.Shekepthittingthewrongnotes,andfinallycametoasuddenstop.

'Ah,it'snogood!Ioughttohavesomelessons,but...'Shebitherlipandadded,'Twentyfrancsatime.It'stooexpensive!'

'Well, yes... it is...' saidCharles. 'But perhaps it could bemanaged a bitcheaper.Sometimesalesswell-knownartistcanbebetterthanateacherwithabigreputation.'

'Theyarenoteasytofind,'saidEmma,anddidnotopenthepianoagain-althoughwhenevershewentnearit(ifCharleswasintheroom)shewouldsaysadly,'Ah,mypoorpiano!'

Andwhenshehadvisitors,sheneverfailedtotellthemshehadgivenuphermusic and could not now start again because of their lack ofmoney.Andtheywouldsaywhatapityitwas,sinceshehadsuchagift.TheyevenspoketoCharlesaboutit,especiallythepharmacist,sayingitwasreallytoobadofhim.

'You'remakingamistake.Youshouldnever let anaturalgift lieunused.Besides,myfriend,youshouldrememberthatbyencouragingyourwifetostudy

now,youwillbesavingonyourchild'smusicaleducationlater.Inmyopinion,childrenoughtalwaystobetaughtbytheirownmother.'

SoCharlesagaincamebacktothispianoquestion.Emmarepliedbitterlythat theymight as well sell it, for all the good it was. But to sell this piano,somethingshehadbeensoproudof,wasanideathatBovarycouldnotaccept.

'Well,'hesaid,'ifyouwantalessonnowandagain,itmightbepossible.'

'Yes,' she replied, 'but it's no good having lessons unless you take themregularly.'

Thatwashowshemanaged togetpermission fromherhusband togo toRouenonceaweektoseeherlover.Attheendofamonth,everyonesaidthatshehadmadealotofprogress.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Debts

Thursdaywastheday.Shegotupanddressedveryquietly,inordernottodisturbCharles,andtooktheearlycoachtoRouen,arrivingjustasthecitywasbeginning to wake up. For fear of being seen, she usually avoided the mainstreets, going instead down narrow lanes and alleys until she reached the rueNationale,andturneddownasidestreet,andyes,therehewas.

Leonmadenosign,butcontinuedonhisway.Shefollowedhimuntiltheycame to thehotel. Inhewentandup thestairs,opened thedoorof their roomandentered;andthenhowtheykissed,andthenhowtheytalked!Theyspokeofalltheworriestheyhadhadduringtheweek,all thethingstheyhaddone.Butthatwasallovernow,andtheylookedateachotherwithlittlesoundsofdelight,andwordsoftendernessandlove.

Thebedwaslarge,withredcurtains,andtherewasnothingsobeautifulintheworldasherdarkheadandwhiteskinagainstthedarkredwhen,withashylittlegesture,sheputherarmstogetherandhidherfaceinherhands.Howtheylovedthisroom.Theyhadtheirlunchbythefireonalittleside-table.Theywereso completely involved in each other that it seemed like being in their ownhome,andtheydreamedtheywouldcontinuetolivetherealways.Theytalkedabout 'our room',andfor thefirst time inhis lifeLeon tasted thesweetnessoffemalecompany,awoman'slife.

He knelt on the ground in front of her and,with his two elbows on herknees,lookedatherwithasmile,leaninghisfacetowardsher.Andsheleaneddowntohim,andwhispered,'Oh,don'tmove!Don'tspeak!Lookatme!Thereissomethinginyoureyessosweet-itdoesmesomuchgood.'Andshecalledhim'child':'Doyouloveme,child?'Andshehardlyheardhisreply,sowildlydidhepresshislipstohermouth.

Attheendoftheirdayshewouldsay,'GoodbyetillThursday!Thursday!'

Then suddenly she would seize his head in both her hands, kiss himquicklyontheforeheadand,crying'Goodbye',rundownthestairs.

Charles would be at home and waiting for her and, at last, Madamearrived.Shehardlylookedatherchildand, ifdinnerwaslate,didnotcriticizethe cook. Often her husband, seeing how pale she was, asked her if she wasfeelingill.

'No,'saidEmma.

'But,'heanswered,'youseemsostrangetonight.'

'Oh,no!It'snothing.I'mallright.'

Butherwholelifehadbecomealie,inwhichherloveforLeonlayhiddenfromtheworld.Lyingbecameanecessarypartofherday,almostahobby.

One day, however, Monsieur Lheureux met her in Rouen as she wascomingoutof theHoteldeBoulognewithLeon; itgavehera shock, and shethoughthewouldtelleveryone.Hewasnotsuchafool.Butthreedayslaterhecameintoherroom,shutthedoorbehindhimandsaid,'Ineedsomemoney,andsoon.'

Shetoldhimshecouldnotlethimhaveany.Lheureuxremindedherhowhelpfulhehadalwaysbeenandpulledoutofhispocketanaccountofgoodsnotpaidfor-morethantwothousandfrancs.

Sheloweredherhead.

'Butifyouhaven'tgotcash,you'vegotproperty,'andhementionedafarmnear Aumale that Charles had inherited from his father. Lheureux kneweverything-howbigthefarmwas,howmuchrentitwasworth.

'If Iwere you,' he said, 'Iwould paymy debts, and therewould still besomemoneyleftover.'

Hecamebackthefollowingweek,sayingthatafteralotoftroublehehadfound a buyer willing to pay four thousand francs for the farm. Emma washappierthanshehadbeenformonths.ButLheureuxshookhisheadandtoldherhowmuch richer shewouldbe if she let himmanage these affairs.Finallyhepersuaded her to borrow even more money from him and to sign a series ofdocumentswhichshedidnotunderstand.Hetoldherthiswouldgivehermorecashnow-cashshecouldusetopayherotherdebtsandbuysomeofthelittle

thingsshewanted.Emma,withhermindfullofthoughtsofLeonandwhattheycould do together, did not even read the papers, but simply signed her namewhereLheureuxplacedhisdirty finger.With thismoney inherhands,shefeltshemightbegintobefree.

Freedom, however, was a disappointment. Despite her hopes, she nowfoundLeonlesspleasedtomeetherthanbefore, lessinlove.Becauseshehadmoremoney inher pocket shemademoredemandsonhim,but his employerwasworriedabouthiswork,andhisfriendsaskedhimwhytheycouldnolongersee him. And the more Emma demanded, the less Leon wanted to give, andwhile her love, her need continued to grow, so did her anger. In the end, shebroughtrosesforhimfromYonvilleandthrewtheminhisface.

SoEmmawasnothappy.Whywastherethisemptinessinherlife?Whydidwhatever shewant turn intodust?Everythingwas a lie, every smilehid aboredyawn;everypromisehidacurse.

Tomakemattersworse,onedayasmall,red-facedmancametothehouseexplainingthathecamefromaMonsieurVincartofRouen.Hepolitelyhandedherapaper.Itwasabillforsevenhundredfrancs,signedbyher.Lheureuxhadsoldherbillstoamoney-lender!Shesenttheservanttofetchhim.Hewasbusyand could not come, and the stranger asked what reply he should take toMonsieurVincart.

'Well,'saidEmma,'tellhimIhaven'tgotit...Itwillhavetobenextweek.Askhimtowait...Yes,nextweek,tellhim.'

Themanleftwithoutanotherword.

Nextday,attwelveo'clock,alegaldocumentwashandedtoher,andthesight of the piece of paper with the government stamp on it, and the name'MaitreHareng,BailiffatBuchy,'writtenonitinbigletters,scaredhersomuchthatsheranwithoutamoment'sdelaytoMonsieurLheureux'sshop.

Shefoundhimthere,tyingupabigparcel.

'Whatcanwedo forMadame today?'heasked,andheshowedMadameupstairstohislittleoffice.

'What'sthematter?'saidLheureux,seatinghimselfinhisbigarmchair.

'Lookatthat.'Andsheshowedhimthepaper.

'Well,whatcanIdo?'

Thismadehermoreangrythanfrightened.Hadn'thepromisednottosellherbills?Heagreedthathehadbutadded,'Ihadnochoice.Ihadaknifeatmythroat.'

'What'sgoingtohappennow?'

'Oh,I'lltellyouwhatwillhappen;that'seasy.Yougobeforethejudge,youpayortheysellyourthings.It'squitesimple.'

Though Emma wanted to hit him, she asked him sweetly if there wasanythingshecoulddotokeepthisVincartquiet.

'Oh,no!KeepVincartquiet!Youdon'tknowmuchabouthim,that'sclear.He'smorebloodthirstythanatiger!'

Emma cried out that Monsieur Lheureux really would have to dosomething.

'I think I've been pretty good to you! Look at this,' he said, opening arecord book and running his finger up the page. 'Here... and again, here... 3August,twohundredfrancs...17June,ahundredandfifty...23March,forty-six.InApril...'Hestopped.'Anyway,I'vehadenoughofthesedelays,andthat'sthat!'

Emmasaidnomore.Whatcouldshedo?

WhenshewenttoRouen,Leongaveherlittlecomfort.Hehadjustheardthathewasgoingtobepromotedtochiefclerkinhislawfirm.Itwastimeforhimtothinkabouthisfuture.Nomorelove-making!Besides,itratherboredhimnowwhen Emma began weeping on his chest, and he had grown tired of somuchemotion.Feelinghimwithdrawfromher,shenowbegantowonderhowshecouldgetridofhim!Sheevenbegantowishthatsomethingterriblewouldhappenwhichwould force them to separate.She stoppedher excuseofmusiclessons,andhervisits toRouen.Shestayed inher room, toodepressed topayattentionwhenmorelegaldemandsformoneycametothehouse,toodepressedtotalktoherhusbandorherchild.Shewouldhavelikedtostoplivingorelsetogoonsleepingforever.

However, shecouldnot stop theworldcoming toher, andonemorning,twoweeksafter thefirstvisitbyVincart'sman,Felicitebroughtherapieceofgrey-colouredpaper.Shetookitandreadthecomplicatedlegallanguagewhichtoldher thesimple truth thatwithin twenty-fourhoursshehad topay the totalamountofeightthousandfrancs.Lowerdown,shereadthewordswhichtoldherthat ifshedidnotdo this,allherhouseholdgoodswouldbesold!Whatcouldshe do? Twenty-four hours! That meant tomorrow.Maybe Lheureux was justtryingtofrightenher,that'swhatitwas!Shewenttoseehim.

'Doyouknowwhat'shappening?'shesaid.'Isupposeit'sajoke.'

'Itisn't.'

'Whatdoyoumean?'

He turned toher slowlyand then, foldinghisarms, said, 'Didyou think,my little lady, that Iwould keepon supplying youwith goods andmoney forever,simplyfortheloveofit?Befair!Imustrecovermymoneyonewayortheother.Anyway,it'snotme,it'sVincart.'

'Couldn'tyoupossibly...?'

'Ican'tdoanything.'

'But...justlookatitlikethis...'Andshebegantosayshehadnotknown...ithadtakenherbysurprise...

Shebeggedandprayed,sheevenputherwhitehandonLheureux'sknee.

'That'senoughof that!'heshouted. 'Anyonewouldthinkyouweretryingtomakelovetome.'

'Youhorribleman!'

'Well,who'sgotatemper?'hesaid,withalaugh.

'I'lltelleveryonewhatyou'vedone.I'lltellmyhusband...'

'All right, but I don't think your husbandwill be very pleased when heunderstandswhatyou'vebeendoing!'

Shefellback,asifsomeonehadhitherintheface.

Andthenhewentcloseuptoher,sayingsweetly,'It'snotverypleasant,Iknow.But,afterall,itneverkilledanybody,anditseemsthatit'stheonlywaytomakeyoupaymebackmymoney...'

'ButwherecanIgetit?'saidEmma.

'Whataboutallthosefriendsofyours?'

Andhegaveher a look so searchingand so terrible that she shookwithfear.

'Ipromiseyou,'shesaid.'I'llsignany...'

'I'vehadenoughofyouandyoursignatures!'

'AndIcanstillsell...'

'Don'tbeafool,'hesaid.'You'vegotnothinglefttosell!'

'ButifIbroughtyouthreethousandfrancs,aquarter,athird,nearlyallofit?'

'No,it'snogood.'

Hepushedhergentlytowardsthestairs.

'Ibegyou,MonsieurLheureux,givemeafewdayslonger!'andsheburstintotears.

'Ohlook,moretears!'

'ButI'mdesperate!'

'I don't care,' hewhispered in her ear, so close she could smell his sourbreath,andthenheshutthedoor.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

ADeath

Shewasbravenextday,whenMaitreHareng,thebailiff,accompaniedbytwowitnesses, came tomake a list of the goods to be sold. They beganwithCharles's consulting room, then went into the kitchen and bedroom. Theyexaminedherdresses,theysearchedthroughherdressingroom-andherwholewayoflife,withallitslittlesecrets,waslaidbare,likeabodyonanoperatingtable.

MaitreHareng,withhisblackcoatbuttonedup to theneck,hiswhite tieandpolishedboots,wouldsayfromtimetotime,'Pardonme,Madame;willyouallowme?'Andhe frequentlymade littlecomments, suchas, 'Charming!Verypretty!'Thenhewouldmakesomemorenotes.

Whentheyhadgone throughtherooms, theywentup to theroomundertheroof.ShehadadeskupthereinwhichshekeptRodolphe'sletters.Thathadtobeopened.

'Ah, letters!' saidMaitreHareng, smiling politely. 'But allowme. Imustmakesuretheboxcontainsnothingelse.'

AtlasttheywentandFelicitereturned.EmmahadsenthertolookoutforCharlesandkeephimaway.

Charlesthateveningseemedratherworried.Shelookedathim,thenatthecurtains,thechairs,allthethingswhichhadmadeheralittlehappier,butwhichwouldnowruinthem.

Thenextday,EmmawenttoRouentoseeifshecouldfindawayout.Shevisitedeverybankersheknewthenameof.Someof themlaughed inher facewhentheyheardherstory.Allofthemrefused.Attwoo'clock,sherantoLeon'soffice.Sheknockedatthedoor,butnoonecame.AtlastLeonhimselfappeared.

'I'vesomethingImustsaytoyou,'shesaid.Shewasverypale.'Leon,'shesaid,'Iwantyoutodosomethingforme.'Then,takinghimwithhertwohands

andgivinghimashake,shesaid,'Listen,Iwanteightthousandfrancs.'

'What?You'remad!'

'Notyet.'

Andshe told thestoryofwhathadhappened,howshehad letLheureuxleadherintodisaster.AndCharlesknewnothing.Shemusthavethemoney.

'Howdoyouexpectme...?'

Andherloverwoulddonothingtohelpher.Shehadnowheretoturnto.

'Whatmustbemustbe!'shesaidtoherself.

Shewaswoken at nine the nextmorningbyvoices in the square.Therewasacrowdofpeopleoutside,alltryingtoreadabigpieceofpaperstucktothewallofherhouse.

'Madame!Madame!'criedFelicite,rushingin.'It'saterribleshame!'

Andthepoorgirlheldoutayellowpaperwhichshehadjusttornoffthefrontdoor.Emmareadthatallherfurniturewastobesold.Theylookedateachotherinsilence.Servantandmistresshadnosecretsfromoneanother.

'If I were you, Madame,' sighed Felicite at last, 'I would go and seeMonsieurGuillaumin.'

'Youwould?'

'Yes,yougo.That'stherightthingtodo.'

Shedressedand,inordernottobeseen(therewerealwaysalotofpeopleinthesquare),shetookthepathbytheriver.

'Monsieur,'shesaid,aftershewasletintothelawyer'sdiningroom,'Iwanttoaskyou...'Andshetoldhimhersituation.

Maitre Guillaumin knew all about it. In fact, he was a secret friend ofLheureux's, and knew the story better than she did herself.As he listened, hesmiledastrangesmile.Whensheaskedhimforhelpwith themoneythatwas

beingdemanded,hesaidhowsadhewasthatshehadnevercometohimbefore.Thenheputouthishandandtookholdofhers,andkisseditgreedily,playingwith her fingers and looking in her facewith his colourless eyes. She felt hisbreathonhercheekandcouldnotbearit.

Shejumpedtoherfeet.'Monsieur,'shesaid,'Iamwaiting.'

'Whatfor?'saidthelawyer,suddenlygoingaswhiteasasheet.

'Thismoney.'

'But...'

Then,givingintoadesirehecouldnotresist,hesaid,'Verywell,yes!Youcanhaveyourmoney!'

And he dragged himself along on his knees towards her, shouting, 'ForGod'ssake,stay!Iloveyou!'

He took her by the waist. Madame Bovary fell back with a terribleexpressiononherface,crying,'IknowIhavefallen,Monsieur,butIamnottobesold.'Andsheturnedandranfromthehouse.

Felicitewaswaitingforheronthedoorstep.

'Well?'sheasked.

'No!'saidEmma.

AndforthenextquarterofanhourtheywenttogetherthroughthenamesofallthepeopleinYonvillewhomightperhapshelpher.ButeverytimeFelicitementionedanameEmmaanswered, 'Doyou really think so?Oh,no, I'msuretheywouldn't.'

'AndtheDoctorwillbehereinaminuteortwo.'

'Yes,Iknowthat...Leavemealone.'

Rodolphe!ShehadtoseeRodolphe.Hewouldhelpher,butwhatshouldshe say, how should she begin?Emma entered the park by the side gate, and

walkedtothehouse.Sheclimbedthestairsandwenttohisroom.Hewassittinginfrontofthefire,withhisfeetuponthefireplace,justlightingapipe.

'Hello!Isthatyou?'hesaid,gettingupquickly.

'Yes,it'sme.Rodolphe,Iwanttoaskyouradvice.'

'Youhaven'tchanged,youareascharmingasever.'

'Ah,'sheansweredbitterly, 'sadcharms.Yousaidgoodbyetothemeasilyenough!Oh,Rodolphe!'shesighed.'Ifyouonlyknew...Ilovedyouso!'

'You'vebeencrying!'hesaid.'Whyisthat?'

Nowshebegantoweepuncontrollably.'Iamruined,Rodolphe!Iwantyoutolendmethreethousandfrancs.'

'But...but...'

Hurrying over her words, she told him her story, to which he listenedcarefully. When she had finished, he looked sadly at her and replied, verycalmly,'Ihaven'tgotit,dearlady.'

Itwasnolie.Ifhehadhadit,hewouldhavegivenittoher.Shestoodforafewminuteslookingathim.

'Youhaven'tgotit?Haven'tgotit?'

Sherepeateditseveraltimes,thenshewentout.

Thewallsseemedtobeshaking,andshefeltthattheceilingwouldfallonher.Whenshewasoutside,shefelta littlebetter,butallhermemories,allherideasseemedtofillherheadandburstinasingleflash.Shefeltshewasgoingmad.

Night was falling, and dark birds were flying into the trees. The skyseemed full of balls of fire, falling slowly to earth, turning and turning.Whatcouldshedo?Howcouldshefacetheworld?Shewentrunningdownthehill,throughthemarketplaceandintothepharmacist'sshop.Thedoorwasopenandnoonewasthere,thoughshecouldhearJustin,theassistant,talkingtoMonsieur

Homais.

Sheenteredthepassagewherethelaboratorydoorwas.Onthewallhungakey labelled 'Room 6'. It turned in the lock, and she went straight over andreacheduptothethirdshelf,knockingoverasmallbowlwhichhadstoodbesideit.

'Isanyonethere?Whoisthat?'

ShecouldhearJustinwalkingdownthecorridor.Shemustbequicker.Shereadthelabels,hereyesdesperatelysearchingforoneparticularbottle,abottlewhichmightgiveherawayoutofthisimpossiblesituation.

'Isthereanyonethere?'

Shetookdownabluejarwithasmall,hand-writtenlabelonit,pulledoffthelid,andpushedherhandinside.Shetookitoutfullofawhitepowderwhichshebegantoeatthenandthere.

Justinranintotheroom.

'Stop!'criedtheboy,terrified,throwinghimselfonher.

'Bequiet, they'll come!Theywill blameyourmaster for not lockinghisroom.'

Thensheleft.Theycoulddonothingtohernow,andshefeltagreatpeaceinherheart.

Charles had come back to the house just after Emma left it to findRodolphe. He did not knowwhat to do. He sent Felicite to the Homais', theTuvaches',Lheureux's,theLiond'Or,everywhere.Wheneveranxietyforhiswifeliftedforamoment,hesawhisownliferuined,hismoneygone,Berthe'sfuturedestroyed.How?Why?Notaword.Hewaiteduntilsixo'clockintheevening.Then,unabletostanditanylonger,hewentoutalongtheroadforacoupleofkilometres,sawnoone,waited,andthencamebackagain.

Shehadcomehome.

'Whatwasthematter?Why?Tellmeallaboutit.'

She sat down at her desk and wrote a letter, which she slowly closed,addingthedateandthehour.Thenshesaid,'Youwillreadthattomorrow.Untilthen,Ibegyou,donotaskmeasinglequestion...No,notone!'

'But...'

'Oh,leaveme!'

Andshe laydownonherbedandseemed to fallasleep.Shefeltabittertasteinhermouth,anditwokeherup.ShecaughtsightofCharles,andshuthereyesagain.Shetriedtokeepawake,wonderingwhethershehadanypain.Butno, nothing yet. She could hear the clock, the sound of the fire. Charles wasstandingbythebed,andsheheardthesoundofhisbreathing.

'Ah, it'snothingverymuch-dying!' she thought. 'I shall just fallasleep,anditwillallbeover.'

Shedranksomewaterandturnedherfacetothewall.

Buttherewasstillthathorribletasteofinkinhermouth.

'I'mthirsty...oh,I'msothirsty!'shesighed.

'Whatcanitbe?'saidCharles,bringingheraglassofwater.

'It'snothing...Openthewindow...Ican'tbreathe.'

Andshebegantovomitsosuddenlythatshehardlyhadtimetotakeherhandkerchieffromunderherpillow.

Hequestionedher.Shedidnotanswer.Shekeptperfectlystill,forfeartheslightestmovementwouldmakehervomitagain.Andshebegantofeelanicycoldnessrisingfromherfeettoherheart.

'Ah,it'sbeginningnow!'shewhispered.

'Whatdidyousay?'

Shekeptmovingherheadgentlyfromsidetoside,openingandshuttingherjaws,asifshehadsomethingveryheavyonhertongue.Ateighto'clockthe

vomitingbeganagain.

Charles,examiningthebasin,noticedsomethingwhiteatthebottom.

'That'sextraordinary,mostunusual!'hesaid.

'No,no,you'rewrong,'sherepliedinastrongvoice.

Then, very lightly, he passed his hand over her stomach. She gave ahorriblescream.Hesteppedback,terrified.

Then she began to shake and became paler than the sheet that she washolding.Herheartbeatwasirregular.Thereweredropsofsweatonherface.Hereyesstaredwithoutseeing,andsheansweredeveryquestionwithashakeofherhead. She even smiled two or three times. Gradually her breathing becamenoisier.Thenshestartedtoscream.

'Oh,God,it'sterrible!'

Hethrewhimselfonhiskneesatherbedside.

'Tellme!Whathaveyoueaten?ForGod'ssake,speak!'Andhelookedatherwithatendernessinhiseyesthatshehadneverseenbefore.

'Allright-overthere...there!'shesaidweakly.

Herantothewriting-table,toreopentheletter,andreadaloud:'Letnoonebeblamed...'Hestopped,passedhishandacrosshiseyesandthenreadon.

'What!...Help!Helpme!'Andallhecould saywas theword, 'Poisoned,poisoned!'

Felicite ran toMonsieurHomais' shop and he came back as soon as heheardwhatwasthematter.

'Becalm,'saidthepharmacist.'Whatisthepoison?'

Charlesshowedhimtheletterandthepharmacistrealizedtherewaslittletobedone.

EmmasawthetwoofthemandlookedatCharles.

'Don'tcry,'shesaid,'Iwillnotbeheretoworryyoumuchlonger.'

'Whydidyoudoit?Whomadeyoudoit?'

Andshereplied,'Ithadtobe,mydear.'

'Weren'tyouhappy?Wasitmyfault?IdideverythingIcould.'

'Yes,youdid...Youarekind,sokind.'

Andshepassedherfingersslowlythroughhishair.

'Bringthelittleonetome,'shesaid,raisingherselfonherelbow.

'Thepainisn'tgettinganyworse,isit?'askedCharles.

'No!'

Thechildcamein, inher longnightdress.She lookedthoughtfulandnotyet fullyawake.Sheopenedbig,wonderingeyeswhenshesawtheroom,andthebrightcandles.

'Oh,Mummy,howbigyoureyesare!Howpaleyouare!Andyourfaceisallsweaty!'

Hermotherwasstaringather.

'I'mfrightened,'criedthelittleone.

Emmatookherhandandtriedtokissit;shestruggledtofreeherself.

'That'senough!Takeheraway!'criedCharles.

AfterthatEmmaseemedalittlebetter,butthenshebegantovomitblood,her limbs became stiff, her body was covered with brown patches, and herheartbeat raced. Then she began to scream again. She cursed the poison, shebegged it to hurry up and finish its work. She pushed away everything thatCharles tried tomakeherdrink.Hewasstandingstifflyby thebed,hiswholebody shaking fromhead to foot. Felicite ran fromone endof the room to theother.Therewasnothingtobedoneexcepttocallthepriest.

Whenhecame,Emmawaslyingwithherchinsunkonherbreast;hereyeswere staringandherpoorhandspickedat the sheets.Paleasdeath,witheyeslikeburningcoals,Charles-notcryingnow-wasstandingfacingheratthefootof the bed,while the priest, resting on one knee,waswhispering his prayers.Slowlysheturnedherheadandsuddenly,asshesawthepriestkneelingbesideher,alookofjoycameoverherface.Thepriestrosefromhiskneestoshowherthe cross, and she leant forward and pressed her lips to the bodyof theMan-God.Itwasasifshekissedthefigureonthecrosswithmorelovethanshehadevergivenanypersonduringherlife.

Shethenfellbackontothebed,andtheyhurriedtoherside.Herlifehadended.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Endings

Deathalwayscomesasashock,howevermuch ithasbeenexpected.Sowhen, at last, Charles saw her lying there so still, he threw himself on her,weeping.

'That's right,' said the pharmacist. 'Let nature have her way. You'll feelmuchbetter!'

Later, funeral arrangements had to be made. Charles thought carefullyabouttheseandwrote:

Iwanthertobeburiedinherweddingdress,withwhiteshoesandwhiteflowers, and her hair loose over her shoulders. She should be coveredwith alargepieceofgreensilk.Thesearemywishes.Makesurethattheyarecarriedout.

The gentlemen were surprised at Charles's ideas, andMonsieur Homaisspoketohim.

'Itseemstous,'hesaid,'thatsilkisalittleexpensive...'

'That's none of your business!' shouted Charles. 'Leave me alone! Youdidn'tloveher,sojustgetoutofmysight!'

That night,Charles,Homais and the priest sat besideEmma's body.Shewas lying with her head leaning over her right shoulder. The corner of hermouth,whichwasopen,lookedlikeablackholeatthebottomofherface;hertwothumbswereheldtightlyinherhands.Thesheetthatcoveredherlayquiteflat fromherbreastsdowntoherknees, risingupagainat the tipsofher toes,anditseemedtoCharlesasifanenormousweightwaspressingdownonher.

Earlyinthemorning,MadameBovaryseniorarrived.Charles,ashekissedher,againbrokedownandcried.Likethepharmacist,shecriticizedhimaboutthefuneralexpenses,buthebecamesoangrythatshegrewquiet.

Charles stayed by himself all afternoon. Berthe had been taken over toMadame Homais. In the evening, various people came in to see him and toexpress their regrets. He stood up and shook hands, but he could not sayanything,andeachnewcomersatdownwiththerestofthegroup,inabigcircleroundthefireplace.Theyalllookedatthefloorwithseriousexpressionsontheirfaces,andalthougheveryonewasbored,noonegotuptogo.

Upstairs Felicite, Madame Lefrancois and Madame Bovary senior werestandingaroundEmma,busilyfinishingtheirtaskofdressingher.

'Oh,mypoormistress!'weptFelicite.'Mypoor,poormistress!'

'Justlookather!'saidthelandladyoftheLiond'Or.'Howprettyshelooksevennow!'

Thentheyallbentovertoputtheflowersonherhair.Theyhadtoliftherheadalittle,andastheydidso,astreamofblackliquidpouredfromhermouth.

'Oh,myGod!Thedress!Takecare!'criedMadameLefrancois.

Charleshadtolistentothesoundofhammersonwoodasshewasputintoher last little home. Four men carried her to the door, the house was thrownopen, and all the people of Yonville crowded near. Emma's father, FarmerRouault, arrived as they were bringing her out, and fell unconscious in themarketplacewhenhesawthefuneralcarriage.

At the churchCharles tried to think about the few timeswhen they hadbeen happy together - or when, at least, he had been happy with her. Butrememberingthatshewasthere,underneaththatgreencloth,hisheartwasfilledwithblackangeragainstGodandagainsttheworld.

Theysang,theywentdownontheirknees,theygotupagain;thereseemedtobenoendtoitall.Herememberedhowonce,intheearlydays,theyhadgonetochurchtogether.Theyhadsatontheotherside,ontheright,againstthewall.

OutsidethechurchCharleswalkedinfront,holdinghimselfveryupright.SixmencarriedEmma'sbody,andthepriestfollowedsayingtheprayersforthedead. His voice was carried over the fields, rising and falling on the wind.Sometimesasuddenturninthepathhidthemfromsight,butalwaysthegreatsilvercross rosehighamong the trees.Thewomenfollowed,dressed inblack,

and each in her hand carried a tall lighted candle. Charles recognized everygardenashepassed,andrememberedhowoften,onmorningslikethisone,hehadcomeawayfromoneofthemandsetoutforhomeandEmma.

Now they had arrived at the place where her grave had been dug. Thepeoplestoodaround,andallthetimethepriestwasspeaking,theredearththathad been piled beside the grave ran noiselessly down the slope into the darkhole. Then, when the four ropes were in position, they lowered her into thegrave.Charleswatchedthewoodenboxgodownuntil,at last, itarrivedat thebottomandtheropeswerepulledupagain.Thepriesttookthespadeheldouttohimbyhisassistantandpushedtheearthintothegrave,thenCharlessankdownonhisknees, throwinginhandfulsofearthashecried, 'Goodbye!'Hesentherkisses,anddraggedhimselftotheedgeofthegrave,wantingtoliewithher.

Theyledhimaway,andhesoongrewcalmagain,perhapsfeeling,likealltheothers,asenseofreliefthatitwasnowallover.Asthecrowdwalkedbacktothe village, they talked about her death and what a terrible thing it was -especiallyLheureux,whohadmadeanefforttobethere.

'Poorlittlelady!Whataterriblethingforherhusband!'

Emma'sfatherinsistedongoingstraightbacktoLesBertaux,sayingthathecouldnotsleepinthathouse.Hewouldnotevenseehislittlegrandchild.

'No,no!Icouldn'tbearthepainofit.Goodbye,then.You'reagoodman,'and, pointing at his thigh, 'I shan't forget that leg, not as long as I live.You'llalwaysgetabirdfrommeatChristmas,don'tyouworry.'

Whenhereachedthetopofthehillheturnedagain,justas,yearsago,hehadturnedandlookedbackalongtheSaint-Victorroadwhenshehadlefthimtogowithherhusband.Thewindowsinthevillagewereallonfireinthelightofthe evening sun. He put up his hand to shade his eyes and far away, on thehorizon, he saw the place where she lay, with the trees, here and there, darkamongthewhitestones.Thenhewentonhisway.

Nextday,CharleshadBerthebroughthomefromthenurse.Sheaskedforhermummyandtheytoldherthatshehadgoneaway,thatshewouldbringherbacksometoys.Berthespokeofheragainmanytimes,butasthedayswentbyshe stopped thinking about her and Charles could not bear the child's happylaugh.

LifecontinuedaroundCharles,butithadlostitsmeaning.WhenMadameDupuis wrote to him to tell him of the 'marriage of her son,Monsieur LeonDupuis,alawyerinYvetot,toMademoiselleLeocadieLeboeuf,ofBondeville',Charleswrote: 'Howdelightedmypoorwifewouldhavebeen!',buthedidnotreallycare.

Besides, before long, his money troubles began again. MonsieurLheureux'sVincartreturnedonceagainwithhisdemands.NoweveryonetriedtoprofitfromCharles'sloss.AmusicteacherinRouensentinabillforsixlessons,although Emma had never been to her once; a Madame Rollet demandedpaymentfordeliveringletterstoRouen.AnddaybydayCharleshadtosellthesilver,piecebypiece; thenhegotridof thebestfurniture.All theroomswererobbedoftheircontents-exceptforone.Herroom,herbedroom,wasleftasithadalwaysbeen.Whenhehadhadhisdinner,Charleswentupthere.Hepulledthe round table in frontof the fire,movedherchairnearer,and thensatdownfacingit.Acandlewouldbeburning,andBerthewouldbesittingnearhim,busywithherpaintingbook.

DespitetheseeffortstokeepEmma'smemoryalive,Bovaryrealizedwithsorrowthatherfacewasfadingfromhismemory.Buteverynighthedreamedofheranditwasalwaysthesamedream.Hemovedclosetotouchher,butjustashewastakingherinhisarms,shefelltodust.

Andhewasstillindebt.LheureuxrefusedtowaitanylongerandCharlesdid not knowwhat to do.At last, he decidedhe had to look inEmma's desk.There, instead of an answer to his problems, he foundLeon's letters.He readthemall, to the last line, then searched througheveryotherpieceof furniture,opening every drawer, emptying every box. In this way he also discovered apictureofRodolphe-staringathimfromamountainofloveletters.

Nowpeoplewereshockedtoseehimsodepressed.Heneverwentoutorhadvisitors;heevenrefusedtogoandseehispatients.Theonlytimeshewentoutnowwerewhenhetookhislittlegirlbythehand,andtheywenttogethertothecemetery.

Oneday,whenhehadgonetothemarketatArgueiltosellhishorse-hislastpossession-hemetRodolphe.Theybothturnedpale.Rodolphe,who,whenEmmadied,hadonlysenthiscard,triedtogiveafewapologies.Thenhegrewbraver,andinvitedCharlestohaveabottleofbeerwithhimattheinn.Asthey

walked on, he talked about farming, the price of land, trying to avoid anyuncomfortable subjects. Charles was not listening, Rodolphe noticed, and heanxiouslywatchedhiscompanion'sface.

AtlastCharlessaid,'I'mnotangrywithyou.'

RodolpheremainedsilentandCharles,withhisheadinhishands,repeatedinaflatvoice,avoicefullofendlesssorrow,'No,I'mnotangrywithyounow.'Then he said a great thing, the only great thing he had ever said: 'Fate is toblame!'

Rodolphe,whohadcontrolledthedirectionofthisparticularfateforsometime, thought thiswas rather aweak, even ridiculous response from aman inBovary'sposition.

Nextday,Charleswentout and sat downon the seat in thegarden.Thesunlightcamethroughtheleaves,makingshadowsonthepath, theperfumeoftherosesfilledtheair,theskywasblue,andbeesflewfromoneopenflowertothenext.Charlesfeltdisturbed,likeayoungmanwithanachingheart.

Atseveno'clocklittleBerthe,whohadnotseenhimthatafternoon,cametofetchhimin todinner.Hisheadwas leaningbackagainst thewall,hiseyeswereshut,hismouthwasopen,andhisrighthandwasholdingsomelongdarkhair.

'Comeon,daddy!'shesaid.

And, thinkinghewasonlyplaying,shegavehima littlepush.Hefell totheground.Hewasdead.

When everything had been sold, just twelve francs remained, enough topay forMademoiselleBovary's journey to her grandmother's house.That ladydied the same year. As Farmer Rouault was by then too unwell to look afterBerthe,shewastakeninbyanaunt.Sheis therestill,but theauntispoorandsendsthelittlegirltoearnherlivinginacottonmill.

-THEEND-

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