madame bovary(包法利夫人)-第39节

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But　the　druggist；　turning　red；　confessed　that　he　was　too
sensitive　to　assist　at　such　an　operation。
〃When　one　is　a　simple　spectator；〃　he　said；　〃the　imagination；　you
know；　is　impressed。　And　then　I　have　such　a　nervous　system！〃
〃Pshaw！〃　interrupted　Canivet；　〃on　the　contrary；　you　seem　to　me
inclined　to　apoplexy。　Besides；　that　doesn't　astonish　me；　for　you
chemist　fellows　are　always　poking　about　your　kitchens；　which　must
end　by　spoiling　your　constitutions。　Now　just　look　at　me。　I　get　up
every　day　at　four　o'clock；　I　shave　with　cold　water　（and　am　never
cold）。　I　don't　wear　flannels；　and　I　never　catch　cold；　my　carcass
is　good　enough！　I　live　now　in　one　way；　now　in　another；　like　a
philosopher；　taking　pot…luck；　that　is　why　I　am　not　squeamish　like
you；　and　it　is　as　indifferent　to　me　to　carve　a　Christian　as　the
first　fowl　that　turns　up。　Then；　perhaps；　you　will　say；　habit！
habit！〃
Then；　without　any　consideration　for　Hippolyte；　who　was　sweating
with　agony　between　his　sheets；　these　gentlemen　entered　into　a
conversation；　in　which　the　druggist　compared　the　coolness　of　a
surgeon　to　that　of　a　general；　and　this　comparison　was　pleasing　to
Canivet；　who　launched　out　on　the　exigencies　of　his　art。　He　looked
upon；　it　as　a　sacred　office；　although　the　ordinary　practitioners
dishonoured　it。　At　last；　coming　back　to　the　patient；　he　examined
the　bandages　brought　by　Homais；　the　same　that　had　appeared　for
the　club…foot；　and　asked　for　someone　to　hold　the　limb　for　him。
Lestiboudois　was　sent　for；　and　Monsieur　Canivet　having　turned　up
his　sleeves；　passed　into　the　billiard…room；　while　the　druggist
stayed　with　Artemise　and　the　landlady；　both　whiter　than　their
aprons；　and　with　ears　strained　towards　the　door。
Bovary　during　this　time　did　not　dare　to　stir　from　his　house。
He　kept　downstairs　in　the　sitting…room　by　the　side　of　the
fireless　chimney；　his　chin　on　his　breast；　his　hands　clasped；　his
eyes　staring。　〃What　a　mishap！〃　he　thought；　〃what　a　mishap！〃
Perhaps；　after　all；　he　had　made　some　slip。　He　thought　it　over；
but　could　hit　upon　nothing。　But　the　most　famous　surgeons　also
made　mistakes；　and　that　is　what　no　one　would　ever　believe！
People；　on　the　contrary；　would　laugh；　jeer！　It　would　spread　as
far　as　Forges；　as　Neufchatel；　as　Rouen；　everywhere！　Who　could　say
if　his　colleagues　would　not　write　against　him。　Polemics　would
ensue；　he　would　have　to　answer　in　the　papers。　Hippolyte　might
even　prosecute　him。　He　saw　himself　dishonoured；　ruined；　lost；　and
his　imagination；　assailed　by　a　world　of　hypotheses；　tossed
amongst　them　like　an　empty　cask　borne　by　the　sea　and　floating
upon　the　waves。
Emma；　opposite；　watched　him；　she　did　not　share　his　humiliation；
she　felt　anotherthat　of　having　supposed　such　a　man　was　worth
anything。　As　if　twenty　times　already　she　had　not　sufficiently
perceived　his　mediocrity。
Charles　was　walking　up　and　down　the　room；　his　boots　creaked　on
the　floor。
〃Sit　down；〃　she　said；　〃you　fidget　me。〃
He　sat　down　again。
How　was　it　that　sheshe；　who　was　so　intelligentcould　have
allowed　herself　to　be　deceived　again？　and　through　what　deplorable
madness　had　she　thus　ruined　her　life　by　continual　sacrifices？　She
recalled　all　her　instincts　of　luxury；　all　the　privations　of　her
soul；　the　sordidness　of　marriage；　of　the　household；　her　dream
sinking　into　the　mire　like　wounded　swallows；　all　that　she　had
longed　for；　all　that　she　had　denied　herself；　all　that　she　might
have　had！　And　for　what？　for　what？
In　the　midst　of　the　silence　that　hung　over　the　village　a
heart…rending　cry　rose　on　the　air。　Bovary　turned　white　to
fainting。　She　knit　her　brows　with　a　nervous　gesture；　then　went
on。　And　it　was　for　him；　for　this　creature；　for　this　man；　who
understood　nothing；　who　felt　nothing！　For　he　was　there　quite
quiet；　not　even　suspecting　that　the　ridicule　of　his　name　would
henceforth　sully　hers　as　well　as　his。　She　had　made　efforts　to
love　him；　and　she　had　repented　with　tears　for　having　yielded　to
another！
〃But　it　was　perhaps　a　valgus！〃　suddenly　exclaimed　Bovary；　who　was
meditating。
At　the　unexpected　shock　of　this　phrase　falling　on　her　thought
like　a　leaden　bullet　on　a　silver　plate；　Emma；　shuddering；　raised
her　head　in　order　to　find　out　what　he　meant　to　say；　and　they
looked　at　the　other　in　silence；　almost　amazed　to　see　each　other；
so　far　sundered　were　they　by　their　inner　thoughts。　Charles　gazed
at　her　with　the　dull　look　of　a　drunken　man；　while　he　listened
motionless　to　the　last　cries　of　the　sufferer；　that　followed　each
other　in　long…drawn　modulations；　broken　by　sharp　spasms　like　the
far…off　howling　of　some　beast　being　slaughtered。　Emma　bit　her　wan
lips；　and　rolling　between　her　fingers　a　piece　of　coral　that　she
had　broken；　fixed　on　Charles　the　burning　glance　of　her　eyes　like
two　arrows　of　fire　about　to　dart　forth。　Everything　in　him
irritated　her　now；　his　face；　his　dress；　what　he　did　not　say；　his
whole　person；　his　existence；　in　fine。　She　repented　of　her　past
virtue　as　of　a　crime；　and　what　still　remained　of　it　rumbled　away
beneath　the　furious　blows　of　her　pride。　She　revelled　in　all　the
evil　ironies　of　triumphant　adultery。　The　memory　of　her　lover　came
back　to　her　with　dazzling　attractions；　she　threw　her　whole　soul
into　it；　borne　away　towards　this　image　with　a　fresh　enthusiasm；
and　Charles　seemed　to　her　as　much　removed　from　her　life；　as
absent　forever；　as　impossible　and　annihilated；　as　if　he　had　been
about　to　die　and　were　passing　under　her　eyes。
There　was　a　sound　of　steps　on　the　pavement。　Charles　looked　up；
and　through　the　lowered　blinds　he　saw　at　the　corner　of　the　market
in　the　broad　sunshine　Dr。　Canivet；　who　was　wiping　his　brow　with
his　handkerchief。　Homais；　behind　him；　was　carrying　a　large　red
box　in　his　hand；　and　both　were　going　towards　the　chemist's。
Then　with　a　feeling　of　sudden　tenderness　and　discouragement
Charles　turned　to　his　wife　saying　to　her
〃Oh；　kiss　me；　my　own！〃
〃Leave　me！〃　she　said；　red　with　anger。
〃What　is　the　matter？〃　he　asked；　stupefied。　〃Be　calm；　compose
yourself。　You　know　well　enough　that　I　love　you。　Come！〃
〃Enough！〃　she　cried　with　a　terrible　look。
And　escaping　from　the　room；　Emma　closed　the　door　so　violently
that　the　barometer　fell　from　the　wall　and　smashed　on　the　floor。
Charles　sank　back　into　his　arm…chair　overwhelmed；　trying　to
discover　what　could　be　wrong　with　her；　fancying　some　nervous
illness；　weeping；　and　vaguely　feeling　something　fatal　and
incomprehensible　whirling　round　him。
When　Rodolphe　came　to　the　garden　that　evening；　he　found　his
mistress　waiting　for　him　at　the　foot　of　the　steps　on　the　lowest
stair。　They　threw　their　arms　round　one　another；　and　all　their
rancour　melted　like　snow　beneath　the　warmth　of　that　kiss。

Chapter　Twelve
They　began　to　love　one　another　again。　Often；　even　in　the　middle
of　the　day；　Emma　suddenly　wrote　to　him；　then　from　the　window　made
a　sign　to　Justin；　who；　taking　his　apron　off；　quickly　ran　to　La
Huchette。　Rodolphe　would　come；　she　had　sent　for　him　to　tell　him
that　she　was　bored；　that　her　husband　was　odious；　her　life
frightful。
〃But　what　can　I　do？〃　he　cried　one　day　impatiently。
〃Ah！　if　you　would〃
She　was　sitting　on　the　floor　between　his　knees；　her　hair　loose；
her　look　lost。
〃Why；　what？〃　said　Rodolphe。
She　sighed。
〃We　would　go　and　live　elsewheresomewhere！〃
〃You　are　really　mad！〃　he　said　laughing。　〃How　could　that　be
possible？〃
She　returned　to　the　subject；　he　pretended　not　to　understand；　and
turned　the　conversation。
What　he　did　not　understand　was　all　this　worry　about　so　simple　an
affair　as　love。　She　had　a　motive；　a　reason；　and；　as　it　were；　a
pendant　to　her　affection。
Her　tenderness；　in　fact；　grew　each　day　with　her　repulsion　to　her
husband。　The　more　she　gave　up　herself　to　the　one；　the　more　she
loathed　the　other。　Never　had　Charles　seemed　to　her　so
disagreeable；　to　have　such　stodgy　fingers；　such　vulgar　ways；　to
be　so　dull　as　when　they　found　themselves　together　after　her
meeting　with　Rodolphe。　Then；　while　playing　the　spouse　and　virtue；
she　was　burning　at　the　thought　of　that　head　whose　black　hair　fell
in　a　curl　over　the　sunburnt　brow；　of　that　form　at　once　so　strong
and　elegant；　of　that　man；　in　a　word；　who　had　such　experience　in
his　reasoning；　such　passion　in　his　desires。　It　was　for　him　that
she　filed　her　nails　with　the　care　of　a　chaser；　and　that　there　was
never　enough　cold…cream　for　her　skin；　nor　of　patchouli　for　her
handkerchiefs。　She　loaded　herself　with　bracelets；　rings；　and
necklaces。　When　he　was　coming　she　filled　the　two　large　blue　glass
vases　with　roses；　and　prepared　her　room　and　her　person　like　a
courtesan　expecting　a　prince。　The　servant　had　to　be　constantly
washing　linen；　and　all　day　Felicite　did　not　stir　from　the
kitchen；　where　little　Justin；　who　often　kept　her　company；　watched
her　at　work。
With　his　elbows　on　the　long　board　on　which　she　was　ironing；　he
greedily　watched　all　these　women's　clothes　spread　about　him；　the
dimity　petticoats；　the　fichus；　the　collars；　and　the　drawers　with
running　strings；　wide　at　the　hips　and　growing　narrower　below。
〃What　is　that　for？〃　asked　the　young　fellow；　passing　his　hand　over
the　crinoline　or　the　hooks　and　eyes。
〃Why；　haven't　you　ever　seen　anything？〃　Felicite　answered
laughing。　〃As　if　your　mistress；　Madame　Homais；　didn't　wear　the
same。〃
〃Oh；　I　daresay！　Madame　Homais！〃　And　he　added　with　a