madame bovary-第14部分

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told　her　this　anecdote；　Emma　inveighed　loudly　against　his
colleague。　Charles　was　much　touched。　He　kissed　her　forehead　with
a　tear　in　his　eyes。　But　she　was　angered　with　shame；　she　felt　a
wild　desire　to　strike　him；　she　went　to　open　the　window　in　the
passage　and　breathed　in　the　fresh　air　to　calm　herself。

〃What　a　man！　What　a　man！〃　she　said　in　a　low　voice；　biting　her
lips。

Besides；　she　was　becoming　more　irritated　with　him。　As　he　grew
older　his　manner　grew　heavier；　at　dessert　he　cut　the　corks　of　the
empty　bottles；　after　eating　he　cleaned　his　teeth　with　his　tongue；
in　taking　soup　he　made　a　gurgling　noise　with　every　spoonful；　and；
as　he　was　getting　fatter；　the　puffed…out　cheeks　seemed　to　push
the　eyes；　always　small；　up　to　the　temples。

Sometimes　Emma　tucked　the　red　borders　of　his　under…vest　unto　his
waistcoat；　rearranged　his　cravat；　and　threw　away　the　dirty　gloves
he　was　going　to　put　on；　and　this　was　not；　as　he　fancied；　for
himself；　it　was　for　herself；　by　a　diffusion　of　egotism；　of
nervous　irritation。　Sometimes；　too；　she　told　him　of　what　she　had
read；　such　as　a　passage　in　a　novel；　of　a　new　play；　or　an　anecdote
of　the　〃upper　ten〃　that　she　had　seen　in　a　feuilleton；　for；　after
all；　Charles　was　something；　an　ever…open　ear；　and　ever…ready
approbation。　She　confided　many　a　thing　to　her　greyhound。　She
would　have　done　so　to　the　logs　in　the　fireplace　or　to　the
pendulum　of　the　clock。

At　the　bottom　of　her　heart；　however；　she　was　waiting　for
something　to　happen。　Like　shipwrecked　sailors；　she　turned
despairing　eyes　upon　the　solitude　of　her　life；　seeking　afar　off
some　white　sail　in　the　mists　of　the　horizon。　She　did　not　know
what　this　chance　would　be；　what　wind　would　bring　it　her；　towards
what　shore　it　would　drive　her；　if　it　would　be　a　shallop　or　a
three…decker；　laden　with　anguish　or　full　of　bliss　to　the
portholes。　But　each　morning；　as　she　awoke；　she　hoped　it　would
come　that　day；　she　listened　to　every　sound；　sprang　up　with　a
start；　wondered　that　it　did　not　come；　then　at　sunset；　always　more
saddened；　she　longed　for　the　morrow。

Spring　came　round。　With　the　first　warm　weather；　when　the　pear
trees　began　to　blossom；　she　suffered　from　dyspnoea。

》From　the　beginning　of　July　she　counted　how　many　weeks　there　were
to　October；　thinking　that　perhaps　the　Marquis　d'Andervilliers
would　give　another　ball　at　Vaubyessard。　But　all　September　passed
without　letters　or　visits。

After　the　ennui　of　this　disappointment　her　heart　once　more
remained　empty；　and　then　the　same　series　of　days　recommenced。　So
now　they　would　thus　follow　one　another；　always　the　same；
immovable；　and　bringing　nothing。　Other　lives；　however　flat；　had
at　least　the　chance　of　some　event。　One　adventure　sometimes
brought　with　it　infinite　consequences　and　the　scene　changed。　But
nothing　happened　to　her；　God　had　willed　it　so！　The　future　was　a
dark　corridor；　with　its　door　at　the　end　shut　fast。

She　gave　up　music。　What　was　the　good　of　playing？　Who　would　hear
her？　Since　she　could　never；　in　a　velvet　gown　with　short　sleeves；
striking　with　her　light　fingers　the　ivory　keys　of　an　Erard　at　a
concert；　feel　the　murmur　of　ecstasy　envelop　her　like　a　breeze；　it
was　not　worth　while　boring　herself　with　practicing。　Her　drawing
cardboard　and　her　embroidery　she　left　in　the　cupboard。　What　was
the　good？　What　was　the　good？　Sewing　irritated　her。　〃I　have　read
everything；〃　she　said　to　herself。　And　she　sat　there　making　the
tongs　red…hot；　or　looked　at　the　rain　falling。

How　sad　she　was　on　Sundays　when　vespers　sounded！　She　listened
with　dull　attention　to　each　stroke　of　the　cracked　bell。　A　cat
slowly　walking　over　some　roof　put　up　his　back　in　the　pale　rays　of
the　sum。　The　wind　on　the　highroad　blew　up　clouds　of　dust。　Afar
off　a　dog　sometimes　howled；　and　the　bell；　keeping　time；　continued
its　monotonous　ringing　that　died　away　over　the　fields。

But　the　people　came　out　from　church。　The　women　in　waxed　clogs；
the　peasants　in　new　blouses；　the　little　bare…headed　children
skipping　along　in　front　of　them；　all　were　going　home。　And　till
nightfall；　five　or　six　men；　always　the　same；　stayed　playing　at
corks　in　front　of　the　large　door　of　the　inn。

The　winter　was　severe。　The　windows　every　morning　were　covered
with　rime；　and　the　light　shining　through　them；　dim　as　through
ground…glass；　sometimes　did　not　change　the　whole　day　long。　At
four　o'clock　the　lamp　had　to　be　lighted。

On　fine　days　she　went　down　into　the　garden。　The　dew　had　left　on
the　cabbages　a　silver　lace　with　long　transparent　threads
spreading　from　one　to　the　other。　No　birds　were　to　be　heard；
everything　seemed　asleep；　the　espalier　covered　with　straw；　and
the　vine；　like　a　great　sick　serpent　under　the　coping　of　the　wall；
along　which；　on　drawing　hear；　one　saw　the　many…footed　woodlice
crawling。　Under　the　spruce　by　the　hedgerow；　the　curie　in　the
three…cornered　hat　reading　his　breviary　had　lost　his　right　foot；
and　the　very　plaster；　scaling　off　with　the　frost；　had　left　white
scabs　on　his　face。

Then　she　went　up　again；　shut　her　door；　put　on　coals；　and　fainting
with　the　heat　of　the　hearth；　felt　her　boredom　weigh　more　heavily
than　ever。　She　would　have　like　to　go　down　and　talk　to　the
servant；　but　a　sense　of　shame　restrained　her。

Every　day　at　the　same　time　the　schoolmaster　in　a　black　skullcap
opened　the　shutters　of　his　house；　and　the　rural　policeman；
wearing　his　sabre　over　his　blouse；　passed　by。　Night　and　morning
the　post…horses；　three　by　three；　crossed　the　street　to　water　at
the　pond。　From　time　to　time　the　bell　of　a　public　house　door　rang；
and　when　it　was　windy　one　could　hear　the　little　brass　basins　that
served　as　signs　for　the　hairdresser's　shop　creaking　on　their　two
rods。　This　shop　had　as　decoration　an　old　engraving　of　a
fashion…plate　stuck　against　a　windowpane　and　the　wax　bust　of　a
woman　with　yellow　hair。　He；　too；　the　hairdresser；　lamented　his
wasted　calling；　his　hopeless　future；　and　dreaming　of　some　shop　in
a　big　townat　Rouen；　for　example；　overlooking　the　harbour；　near
the　theatrehe　walked　up　and　down　all　day　from　the　mairie　to　the
church；　sombre　and　waiting　for　customers。　When　Madame　Bovary
looked　up；　she　always　saw　him　there；　like　a　sentinel　on　duty；
with　his　skullcap　over　his　ears　and　his　vest　of　lasting。

Sometimes　in　the　afternoon　outside　the　window　of　her　room；　the
head　of　a　man　appeared；　a　swarthy　head　with　black　whiskers；
smiling　slowly；　with　a　broad；　gentle　smile　that　showed　his　white
teeth。　A　waltz　immediately　began　and　on　the　organ；　in　a　little
drawing　room；　dancers　the　size　of　a　finger；　women　in　pink
turbans；　Tyrolians　in　jackets；　monkeys　in　frock　coats；　gentlemen
in　knee…breeches；　turned　and　turned　between　the　sofas；　the
consoles；　multiplied　in　the　bits　of　looking　glass　held　together
at　their　corners　by　a　piece　of　gold　paper。　The　man　turned　his
handle；　looking　to　the　right　and　left；　and　up　at　the　windows。　Now
and　again；　while　he　shot　out　a　long　squirt　of　brown　saliva
against　the　milestone；　with　his　knee　raised　his　instrument；　whose
hard　straps　tired　his　shoulder；　and　now；　doleful　and　drawling；　or
gay　and　hurried；　the　music　escaped　from　the　box；　droning　through
a　curtain　of　pink　taffeta　under　a　brass　claw　in　arabesque。　They
were　airs　played　in　other　places　at　the　theatres；　sung　in　drawing
rooms；　danced　to　at　night　under　lighted　lustres；　echoes　of　the
world　that　reached　even　to　Emma。　Endless　sarabands　ran　through
her　head；　and；　like　an　Indian　dancing　girl　on　the　flowers　of　a
carpet；　her　thoughts　leapt　with　the　notes；　swung　from　dream　to
dream；　from　sadness　to　sadness。　When　the　man　had　caught　some
coppers　in　his　cap；　he　drew　down　an　old　cover　of　blue　cloth；
hitched　his　organ　on　to　his　back；　and　went　off　with　a　heavy
tread。　She　watched　him　going。

But　it　was　above　all　the　meal…times　that　were　unbearable　to　her；
in　this　small　room　on　the　ground　floor；　with　its　smoking　stove；
its　creaking　door；　the　walls　that　sweated；　the　damp　flags；　all
the　bitterness　in　life　seemed　served　up　on　her　plate；　and　with
smoke　of　the　boiled　beef　there　rose　from　her　secret　soul　whiffs
of　sickliness。　Charles　was　a　slow　eater；　she　played　with　a　few
nuts；　or；　leaning　on　her　elbow；　amused　herself　with　drawing　lines
along　the　oilcloth　table　cover　with　the　point　of　her　knife。

She　now　let　everything　in　her　household　take　care　of　itself；　and
Madame　Bovary　senior；　when　she　came　to　spend　part　of　Lent　at
Tostes；　was　much　surprised　at　the　change。　She　who　was　formerly　so
careful；　so　dainty；　now　passed　whole　days　without　dressing；　wore
grey　cotton　stockings；　and　burnt　tallow　candles。　She　kept　saying
they　must　be　economical　since　they　were　not　rich；　adding　that　she
was　very　contented；　very　happy；　that　Tostes　pleased　her　very
much；　with　other　speeches　that　closed　the　mouth　of　her
mother…in…law。　Besides；　Emma　no　longer　seemed　inclined　to　follow
her　advice；　once　even；　Madame　Bovary　having　thought　fit　to
maintain　that　mistresses　ought　to　keep　an　eye　on　the　religion　of
their　servants；　she　had　answered　with　so　angry　a　look　and　so　cold
a　smile　that　the　good　woman　did　not　interfere　again。

Emma　was　growing　difficult；　capricious。　She　ordered　dishes　for
herself；　then　she　did　not　touch　them；　one　day　drank　only　pure
milk；　the　next　cups　of　tea　by　the　dozen。　Often　she　persisted　in
not　going　out