madame bovary(包法利夫人)-第23节

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fireside；　she　was　a　long　time　over　it；　everything　was　well　with
her。
〃How　good　I　was！〃　she　said　to　herself；　thinking　of　the　scarves。
She　heard　some　steps　on　the　stairs。　It　was　Leon。　She　got　up　and
took　from　the　chest　of　drawers　the　first　pile　of　dusters　to　be
hemmed。　When　he　came　in　she　seemed　very　busy。
The　conversation　languished；　Madame　Bovary　gave　it　up　every　few
minutes；　whilst　he　himself　seemed　quite　embarrassed。　Seated　on　a
low　chair　near　the　fire；　he　turned　round　in　his　fingers　the　ivory
thimble…case。　She　stitched　on；　or　from　time　to　time　turned　down
the　hem　of　the　cloth　with　her　nail。　She　did　not　speak；　he　was
silent；　captivated　by　her　silence；　as　he　would　have　been　by　her
speech。
〃Poor　fellow！〃　she　thought。
〃How　have　I　displeased　her？〃　he　asked　himself。
At　last；　however；　Leon　said　that　he　should　have；　one　of　these
days；　to　go　to　Rouen　on　some　office　business。
〃Your　music　subscription　is　out；　am　I　to　renew　it？〃
〃No；〃　she　replied。
〃Why？〃
〃Because〃
And　pursing　her　lips　she　slowly　drew　a　long　stitch　of　grey
thread。
This　work　irritated　Leon。　It　seemed　to　roughen　the　ends　of　her
fingers。　A　gallant　phrase　came　into　his　head；　but　he　did　not　risk
it。
〃Then　you　are　giving　it　up？〃　he　went　on。
〃What？〃　she　asked　hurriedly。　〃Music？　Ah！　yes！　Have　I　not　my　house
to　look　after；　my　husband　to　attend　to；　a　thousand　things；　in
fact；　many　duties　that　must　be　considered　first？〃
She　looked　at　the　clock。　Charles　was　late。　Then；　she　affected
anxiety。　Two　or　three　times　she　even　repeated；　〃He　is　so　good！〃
The　clerk　was　fond　of　Monsieur　Bovary。　But　this　tenderness　on　his
behalf　astonished　him　unpleasantly；　nevertheless　he　took　up　on
his　praises；　which　he　said　everyone　was　singing；　especially　the
chemist。
〃Ah！　he　is　a　good　fellow；〃　continued　Emma。
〃Certainly；〃　replied　the　clerk。
And　he　began　talking　of　Madame　Homais；　whose　very　untidy
appearance　generally　made　them　laugh。
〃What　does　it　matter？〃　interrupted　Emma。　〃A　good　housewife　does
not　trouble　about　her　appearance。〃
Then　she　relapsed　into　silence。
It　was　the　same　on　the　following　days；　her　talks；　her　manners；
everything　changed。　She　took　interest　in　the　housework；　went　to
church　regularly；　and　looked　after　her　servant　with　more
severity。
She　took　Berthe　from　nurse。　When　visitors　called；　Felicite
brought　her　in；　and　Madame　Bovary　undressed　her　to　show　off　her
limbs。　She　declared　she　adored　children；　this　was　her
consolation；　her　joy；　her　passion；　and　she　accompanied　her
caresses　with　lyrical　outburst　which　would　have　reminded　anyone
but　the　Yonville　people　of　Sachette　in　〃Notre　Dame　de　Paris。〃
When　Charles　came　home　he　found　his　slippers　put　to　warm　near　the
fire。　His　waistcoat　now　never　wanted　lining；　nor　his　shirt
buttons；　and　it　was　quite　a　pleasure　to　see　in　the　cupboard　the
night…caps　arranged　in　piles　of　the　same　height。　She　no　longer
grumbled　as　formerly　at　taking　a　turn　in　the　garden；　what　he
proposed　was　always　done；　although　she　did　not　understand　the
wishes　to　which　she　submitted　without　a　murmur；　and　when　Leon　saw
him　by　his　fireside　after　dinner；　his　two　hands　on　his　stomach；
his　two　feet　on　the　fender；　his　two　cheeks　red　with　feeding；　his
eyes　moist　with　happiness；　the　child　crawling　along　the　carpet；
and　this　woman　with　the　slender　waist　who　came　behind　his
arm…chair　to　kiss　his　forehead：　〃What　madness！〃　he　said　to
himself。　〃And　how　to　reach　her！〃
And　thus　she　seemed　so　virtuous　and　inaccessible　to　him　that　he
lost　all　hope；　even　the　faintest。　But　by　this　renunciation　he
placed　her　on　an　extraordinary　pinnacle。　To　him　she　stood　outside
those　fleshly　attributes　from　which　he　had　nothing　to　obtain；　and
in　his　heart　she　rose　ever；　and　became　farther　removed　from　him
after　the　magnificent　manner　of　an　apotheosis　that　is　taking
wing。　It　was　one　of　those　pure　feelings　that　do　not　interfere
with　life；　that　are　cultivated　because　they　are　rare；　and　whose
loss　would　afflict　more　than　their　passion　rejoices。
Emma　grew　thinner；　her　cheeks　paler；　her　face　longer。　With　her
black　hair；　her　large　eyes；　her　aquiline　nose；　her　birdlike　walk；
and　always　silent　now；　did　she　not　seem　to　be　passing　through
life　scarcely　touching　it；　and　to　bear　on　her　brow　the　vague
impress　of　some　divine　destiny？　She　was　so　sad　and　so　calm；　at
once　so　gentle　and　so　reserved；　that　near　her　one　felt　oneself
seized　by　an　icy　charm；　as　we　shudder　in　churches　at　the　perfume
of　the　flowers　mingling　with　the　cold　of　the　marble。　The　others
even　did　not　escape　from　this　seduction。　The　chemist　said
〃She　is　a　woman　of　great　parts；　who　wouldn't　be　misplaced　in　a
sub…prefecture。〃
The　housewives　admired　her　economy；　the　patients　her　politeness；
the　poor　her　charity。
But　she　was　eaten　up　with　desires；　with　rage；　with　hate。　That
dress　with　the　narrow　folds　hid　a　distracted　fear；　of　whose
torment　those　chaste　lips　said　nothing。　She　was　in　love　with
Leon；　and　sought　solitude　that　she　might　with　the　more　ease
delight　in　his　image。　The　sight　of　his　form　troubled　the
voluptuousness　of　this　mediation。　Emma　thrilled　at　the　sound　of
his　step；　then　in　his　presence　the　emotion　subsided；　and
afterwards　there　remained　to　her　only　an　immense　astonishment
that　ended　in　sorrow。
Leon　did　not　know　that　when　he　left　her　in　despair　she　rose　after
he　had　gone　to　see　him　in　the　street。　She　concerned　herself　about
his　comings　and　goings；　she　watched　his　face；　she　invented　quite
a　history　to　find　an　excuse　for　going　to　his　room。　The　chemist's
wife　seemed　happy　to　her　to　sleep　under　the　same　roof；　and　her
thoughts　constantly　centered　upon　this　house；　like　the　〃Lion
d'Or〃　pigeons；　who　came　there　to　dip　their　red　feet　and　white
wings　in　its　gutters。　But　the　more　Emma　recognised　her　love；　the
more　she　crushed　it　down；　that　it　might　not　be　evident；　that　she
might　make　it　less。　She　would　have　liked　Leon　to　guess　it；　and
she　imagined　chances；　catastrophes　that　should　facilitate　this。
What　restrained　her　was；　no　doubt；　idleness　and　fear；　and　a　sense
of　shame　also。　She　thought　she　had　repulsed　him　too　much；　that
the　time　was　past；　that　all　was　lost。　Then；　pride；　and　joy　of
being　able　to　say　to　herself；　〃I　am　virtuous；〃　and　to　look　at
herself　in　the　glass　taking　resigned　poses；　consoled　her　a　little
for　the　sacrifice　she　believed　she　was　making。
Then　the　lusts　of　the　flesh；　the　longing　for　money；　and　the
melancholy　of　passion　all　blended　themselves　into　one　suffering；
and　instead　of　turning　her　thoughts　from　it；　she　clave　to　it　the
more；　urging　herself　to　pain；　and　seeking　everywhere　occasion　for
it。　She　was　irritated　by　an　ill…served　dish　or　by　a　half…open
door；　bewailed　the　velvets　she　had　not；　the　happiness　she　had
missed；　her　too　exalted　dreams；　her　narrow　home。
What　exasperated　her　was　that　Charles　did　not　seem　to　notice　her
anguish。　His　conviction　that　he　was　making　her　happy　seemed　to
her　an　imbecile　insult；　and　his　sureness　on　this　point
ingratitude。　For　whose　sake；　then　was　she　virtuous？　Was　it　not
for　him；　the　obstacle　to　all　felicity；　the　cause　of　all　misery；
and；　as　it　were；　the　sharp　clasp　of　that　complex　strap　that
bucked　her　in　on　all　sides。
On　him　alone；　then；　she　concentrated　all　the　various　hatreds　that
resulted　from　her　boredom；　and　every　effort　to　diminish　only
augmented　it；　for　this　useless　trouble　was　added　to　the　other
reasons　for　despair；　and　contributed　still　more　to　the　separation
between　them。　Her　own　gentleness　to　herself　made　her　rebel
against　him。　Domestic　mediocrity　drove　her　to　lewd　fancies；
marriage　tenderness　to　adulterous　desires。　She　would　have　like
Charles　to　beat　her；　that　she　might　have　a　better　right　to　hate
him；　to　revenge　herself　upon　him。　She　was　surprised　sometimes　at
the　atrocious　conjectures　that　came　into　her　thoughts；　and　she
had　to　go　on　smiling；　to　hear　repeated　to　her　at　all　hours　that
she　was　happy；　to　pretend　to　be　happy；　to　let　it　be　believed。
Yet　she　had　loathing　of　this　hypocrisy。　She　was　seized　with　the
temptation　to　flee　somewhere　with　Leon　to　try　a　new　life；　but　at
once　a　vague　chasm　full　of　darkness　opened　within　her　soul。
〃Besides；　he　no　longer　loves　me；〃　she　thought。　〃What　is　to　become
of　me？　What　help　is　to　be　hoped　for；　what　consolation；　what
solace？〃
She　was　left　broken；　breathless；　inert；　sobbing　in　a　low　voice；
with　flowing　tears。
〃Why　don't　you　tell　master？〃　the　servant　asked　her　when　she　came
in　during　these　crises。
〃It　is　the　nerves；〃　said　Emma。　〃Do　not　speak　to　him　of　it；　it
would　worry　him。〃
〃Ah！　yes；〃　Felicite　went　on；　〃you　are　just　like　La　Guerine；　Pere
Guerin's　daughter；　the　fisherman　at　Pollet；　that　I　used　to　know
at　Dieppe　before　I　came　to　you。　She　was　so　sad；　so　sad；　to　see
her　standing　upright　on　the　threshold　of　her　house；　she　seemed　to
you　like　a　winding…sheet　spread　out　before　the　door。　Her　illness；
it　appears；　was　a　kind　of　fog　that　she　had　in　her　head；　and　the
doctors　could　not　do　anything；　nor　the　priest　either。　When　she
was　taken　too　bad　she　went　off　quite　alone　to　the　sea…shore；　so
that　the　customs　officer；　going　his　rounds；　often　found　her　lying
flat　on　her　face；　crying　on　the　shingle。　Then；　after　her
marriage；　it　went　off；　they　say。〃
〃But　with　me；〃　replied　Emma；　〃it　was　after　marriage　that　it
began。〃

Chapter　Six
One　eveni