madame bovary(包法利夫人)-第2节

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came　home；　the　lad　was　spoilt　as　if　he　were　a　prince。　His　mother
stuffed　him　with　jam；　his　father　let　him　run　about　barefoot；　and；
playing　the　philosopher；　even　said　he　might　as　well　go　about
quite　naked　like　the　young　of　animals。　As　opposed　to　the　maternal
ideas；　he　had　a　certain　virile　idea　of　childhood　on　which　he
sought　to　mould　his　son；　wishing　him　to　be　brought　up　hardily；
like　a　Spartan；　to　give　him　a　strong　constitution。　He　sent　him　to
bed　without　any　fire；　taught　him　to　drink　off　large　draughts　of
rum　and　to　jeer　at　religious　processions。　But；　peaceable　by
nature；　the　lad　answered　only　poorly　to　his　notions。　His　mother
always　kept　him　near　her；　she　cut　out　cardboard　for　him；　told　him
tales；　entertained　him　with　endless　monologues　full　of　melancholy
gaiety　and　charming　nonsense。　In　her　life's　isolation　she
centered　on　the　child's　head　all　her　shattered；　broken　little
vanities。　She　dreamed　of　high　station；　she　already　saw　him；　tall；
handsome；　clever；　settled　as　an　engineer　or　in　the　law。　She
taught　him　to　read；　and　even；　on　an　old　piano；　she　had　taught　him
two　or　three　little　songs。　But　to　all　this　Monsieur　Bovary；
caring　little　for　letters；　said；　〃It　was　not　worth　while。　Would
they　ever　have　the　means　to　send　him　to　a　public　school；　to　buy
him　a　practice；　or　start　him　in　business？　Besides；　with　cheek　a
man　always　gets　on　in　the　world。〃　Madame　Bovary　bit　her　lips；　and
the　child　knocked　about　the　village。
He　went　after　the　labourers；　drove　away　with　clods　of　earth　the
ravens　that　were　flying　about。　He　ate　blackberries　along　the
hedges；　minded　the　geese　with　a　long　switch；　went　haymaking
during　harvest；　ran　about　in　the　woods；　played　hop…scotch　under
the　church　porch　on　rainy　days；　and　at　great　fetes　begged　the
beadle　to　let　him　toll　the　bells；　that　he　might　hang　all　his
weight　on　the　long　rope　and　feel　himself　borne　upward　by　it　in
its　swing。　Meanwhile　he　grew　like　an　oak；　he　was　strong　on　hand；
fresh　of　colour。
When　he　was　twelve　years　old　his　mother　had　her　own　way；　he　began
lessons。　The　cure　took　him　in　hand；　but　the　lessons　were　so　short
and　irregular　that　they　could　not　be　of　much　use。　They　were　given
at　spare　moments　in　the　sacristy；　standing　up；　hurriedly；　between
a　baptism　and　a　burial；　or　else　the　cure；　if　he　had　not　to　go
out；　sent　for　his　pupil　after　the　Angelus*。　They　went　up　to　his
room　and　settled　down；　the　flies　and　moths　fluttered　round　the
candle。　It　was　close；　the　child　fell　asleep；　and　the　good　man；
beginning　to　doze　with　his　hands　on　his　stomach；　was　soon　snoring
with　his　mouth　wide　open。　On　other　occasions；　when　Monsieur　le
Cure；　on　his　way　back　after　administering　the　viaticum　to　some
sick　person　in　the　neighbourhood；　caught　sight　of　Charles　playing
about　the　fields；　he　called　him；　lectured　him　for　a　quarter　of　an
hour　and　took　advantage　of　the　occasion　to　make　him　conjugate　his
verb　at　the　foot　of　a　tree。　The　rain　interrupted　them　or　an
acquaintance　passed。　All　the　same　he　was　always　pleased　with　him；
and　even　said　the　〃young　man〃　had　a　very　good　memory。
*A　devotion　said　at　morning；　noon；　and　evening；　at　the　sound　of　a
bell。　Here；　the　evening　prayer。
Charles　could　not　go　on　like　this。　Madame　Bovary　took　strong
steps。　Ashamed；　or　rather　tired　out；　Monsieur　Bovary　gave　in
without　a　struggle；　and　they　waited　one　year　longer；　so　that　the
lad　should　take　his　first　communion。
Six　months　more　passed；　and　the　year　after　Charles　was　finally
sent　to　school　at　Rouen；　where　his　father　took　him　towards　the
end　of　October；　at　the　time　of　the　St。　Romain　fair。
It　would　now　be　impossible　for　any　of　us　to　remember　anything
about　him。　He　was　a　youth　of　even　temperament；　who　played　in
playtime；　worked　in　school…hours；　was　attentive　in　class；　slept
well　in　the　dormitory；　and　ate　well　in　the　refectory。　He　had　in
loco　parentis*　a　wholesale　ironmonger　in　the　Rue　Ganterie；　who
took　him　out　once　a　month　on　Sundays　after　his　shop　was　shut；
sent　him　for　a　walk　on　the　quay　to　look　at　the　boats；　and　then
brought　him　back　to　college　at　seven　o'clock　before　supper。　Every
Thursday　evening　he　wrote　a　long　letter　to　his　mother　with　red
ink　and　three　wafers；　then　he　went　over　his　history　note…books；
or　read　an　old　volume　of　〃Anarchasis〃　that　was　knocking　about　the
study。　When　he　went　for　walks　he　talked　to　the　servant；　who；　like
himself；　came　from　the　country。
*In　place　of　a　parent。
By　dint　of　hard　work　he　kept　always　about　the　middle　of　the
class；　once　even　he　got　a　certificate　in　natural　history。　But　at
the　end　of　his　third　year　his　parents　withdrew　him　from　the
school　to　make　him　study　medicine；　convinced　that　he　could　even
take　his　degree　by　himself。
His　mother　chose　a　room　for　him　on　the　fourth　floor　of　a　dyer's
she　knew；　overlooking　the　Eau…de…Robec。　She　made　arrangements　for
his　board；　got　him　furniture；　table　and　two　chairs；　sent　home　for
an　old　cherry…tree　bedstead；　and　bought　besides　a　small　cast…iron
stove　with　the　supply　of　wood　that　was　to　warm　the　poor　child。
Then　at　the　end　of　a　week　she　departed；　after　a　thousand
injunctions　to　be　good　now　that　he　was　going　to　be　left　to
himself。
The　syllabus　that　he　read　on　the　notice…board　stunned　him；
lectures　on　anatomy；　lectures　on　pathology；　lectures　on
physiology；　lectures　on　pharmacy；　lectures　on　botany　and　clinical
medicine；　and　therapeutics；　without　counting　hygiene　and　materia
medicaall　names　of　whose　etymologies　he　was　ignorant；　and　that
were　to　him　as　so　many　doors　to　sanctuaries　filled　with
magnificent　darkness。
He　understood　nothing　of　it　all；　it　was　all　very　well　to　listen
he　did　not　follow。　Still　he　worked；　he　had　bound　note…books；　he
attended　all　the　courses；　never　missed　a　single　lecture。　He　did
his　little　daily　task　like　a　mill…horse；　who　goes　round　and　round
with　his　eyes　bandaged；　not　knowing　what　work　he　is　doing。
To　spare　him　expense　his　mother　sent　him　every　week　by　the
carrier　a　piece　of　veal　baked　in　the　oven；　with　which　he　lunched
when　he　came　back　from　the　hospital；　while　he　sat　kicking　his
feet　against　the　wall。　After　this　he　had　to　run　off　to　lectures；
to　the　operation…room；　to　the　hospital；　and　return　to　his　home　at
the　other　end　of　the　town。　In　the　evening；　after　the　poor　dinner
of　his　landlord；　he　went　back　to　his　room　and　set　to　work　again
in　his　wet　clothes；　which　smoked　as　he　sat　in　front　of　the　hot
stove。
On　the　fine　summer　evenings；　at　the　time　when　the　close　streets
are　empty；　when　the　servants　are　playing　shuttle…cock　at　the
doors；　he　opened　his　window　and　leaned　out。　The　river；　that　makes
of　this　quarter　of　Rouen　a　wretched　little　Venice；　flowed　beneath
him；　between　the　bridges　and　the　railings；　yellow；　violet；　or
blue。　Working　men；　kneeling　on　the　banks；　washed　their　bare　arms
in　the　water。　On　poles　projecting　from　the　attics；　skeins　of
cotton　were　drying　in　the　air。　Opposite；　beyond　the　roots　spread
the　pure　heaven　with　the　red　sun　setting。　How　pleasant　it　must　be
at　home！　How　fresh　under　the　beech…tree！　And　he　expanded　his
nostrils　to　breathe　in　the　sweet　odours　of　the　country　which　did
not　reach　him。
He　grew　thin；　his　figure　became　taller；　his　face　took　a　saddened
look　that　made　it　nearly　interesting。　Naturally；　through
indifference；　he　abandoned　all　the　resolutions　he　had　made。　Once
he　missed　a　lecture；　the　next　day　all　the　lectures；　and；　enjoying
his　idleness；　little　by　little；　he　gave　up　work　altogether。　He
got　into　the　habit　of　going　to　the　public…house；　and　had　a
passion　for　dominoes。　To　shut　himself　up　every　evening　in　the
dirty　public　room；　to　push　about　on　marble　tables　the　small　sheep
bones　with　black　dots；　seemed　to　him　a　fine　proof　of　his　freedom；
which　raised　him　in　his　own　esteem。　It　was　beginning　to　see　life；
the　sweetness　of　stolen　pleasures；　and　when　he　entered；　he　put
his　hand　on　the　door…handle　with　a　joy　almost　sensual。　Then　many
things　hidden　within　him　came　out；　he　learnt　couplets　by　heart
and　sang　them　to　his　boon　companions；　became　enthusiastic　about
Beranger；　learnt　how　to　make　punch；　and；　finally；　how　to　make
love。
Thanks　to　these　preparatory　labours；　he　failed　completely　in　his
examination　for　an　ordinary　degree。　He　was　expected　home　the　same
night　to　celebrate　his　success。　He　started　on　foot；　stopped　at
the　beginning　of　the　village；　sent　for　his　mother；　and　told　her
all。　She　excused　him；　threw　the　blame　of　his　failure　on　the
injustice　of　the　examiners；　encouraged　him　a　little；　and　took
upon　herself　to　set　matters　straight。　It　was　only　five　years
later　that　Monsieur　Bovary　knew　the　truth；　it　was　old　then；　and
he　accepted　it。　Moreover；　he　could　not　believe　that　a　man　born　of
him　could　be　a　fool。
So　Charles　set　to　work　again　and　crammed　for　his　examination；
ceaselessly　learning　all　the　old　questions　by　heart。　He　passed
pretty　well。　What　a　happy　day　for　his　mother！　They　gave　a　grand
dinner。
Where　should　he　go　to　practice？　To　Tostes；　where　there　was　only
one　old　doctor。　For　a　long　time　Madame　Bovary　had　been　on　the
look…out　for　his　death；　and　the　old　fellow　had　barely　been　packed
off　when　Charles　was　installed；　opposite　his　place；　as　his
successor。
But　it　was　not　everything　to　have　brought　up　a　son；　to　have　had
him　taught　medicine；　and　discovered　Tostes；　where　he　could
practice