madame bovary(包法利夫人)-第72节

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sovereign　in　which　he　implored　him　to　〃do　him　justice〃；　he　called
him　〃our　good　king；〃　and　compared　him　to　Henri　IV。
And　every　morning　the　druggist　rushed　for　the　paper　to　see　if　his
nomination　were　in　it。　It　was　never　there。　At　last；　unable　to
bear　it　any　longer；　he　had　a　grass　plot　in　his　garden　designed　to
represent　the　Star　of　the　Cross　of　Honour　with　two　little　strips
of　grass　running　from　the　top　to　imitate　the　ribband。　He　walked
round　it　with　folded　arms；　meditating　on　the　folly　of　the
Government　and　the　ingratitude　of　men。
》From　respect；　or　from　a　sort　of　sensuality　that　made　him　carry　on
his　investigations　slowly；　Charles　had　not　yet　opened　the　secret
drawer　of　a　rosewood　desk　which　Emma　had　generally　used。　One　day；
however；　he　sat　down　before　it；　turned　the　key；　and　pressed　the
spring。　All　Leon's　letters　were　there。　There　could　be　no　doubt
this　time。　He　devoured　them　to　the　very　last；　ransacked　every
corner；　all　the　furniture；　all　the　drawers；　behind　the　walls；
sobbing；　crying　aloud；　distraught；　mad。　He　found　a　box　and　broke
it　open　with　a　kick。　Rodolphe's　portrait　flew　full　in　his　face　in
the　midst　of　the　overturned　love…letters。
People　wondered　at　his　despondency。　He　never　went　out；　saw　no
one；　refused　even　to　visit　his　patients。　Then　they　said　〃he　shut
himself　up　to　drink。〃
Sometimes；　however；　some　curious　person　climbed　on　to　the　garden
hedge；　and　saw　with　amazement　this　long…bearded；　shabbily
clothed；　wild　man；　who　wept　aloud　as　he　walked　up　and　down。
In　the　evening　in　summer　he　took　his　little　girl　with　him　and　led
her　to　the　cemetery。　They　came　back　at　nightfall；　when　the　only
light　left　in　the　Place　was　that　in　Binet's　window。
The　voluptuousness　of　his　grief　was；　however；　incomplete；　for　he
had　no　one　near　him　to　share　it；　and　he　paid　visits　to　Madame
Lefrancois　to　be　able　to　speak　of　her。
But　the　landlady　only　listened　with　half　an　ear；　having　troubles
like　himself。　For　Lheureux　had　at　last　established　the　〃Favorites
du　Commerce；〃　and　Hivert；　who　enjoyed　a　great　reputation　for
doing　errands；　insisted　on　a　rise　of　wages；　and　was　threatening
to　go　over　〃to　the　opposition　shop。〃
One　day　when　he　had　gone　to　the　market　at　Argueil　to　sell　his
horsehis　last　resourcehe　met　Rodolphe。
They　both　turned　pale　when　they　caught　sight　of　one　another。
Rodolphe；　who　had　only　sent　his　card；　first　stammered　some
apologies；　then　grew　bolder；　and　even　pushed　his　assurance　（it
was　in　the　month　of　August　and　very　hot）　to　the　length　of
inviting　him　to　have　a　bottle　of　beer　at　the　public…house。
Leaning　on　the　table　opposite　him；　he　chewed　his　cigar　as　he
talked；　and　Charles　was　lost　in　reverie　at　this　face　that　she　had
loved。　He　seemed　to　see　again　something　of　her　in　it。　It　was　a
marvel　to　him。　He　would　have　liked　to　have　been　this　man。
The　other　went　on　talking　agriculture；　cattle；　pasturage；　filling
out　with　banal　phrases　all　the　gaps　where　an　allusion　might　slip
in。　Charles　was　not　listening　to　him；　Rodolphe　noticed　it；　and　he
followed　the　succession　of　memories　that　crossed　his　face。　This
gradually　grew　redder；　the　nostrils　throbbed　fast；　the　lips
quivered。　There　was　at　last　a　moment　when　Charles；　full　of　a
sombre　fury；　fixed　his　eyes　on　Rodolphe；　who；　in　something　of
fear；　stopped　talking。　But　soon　the　same　look　of　weary　lassitude
came　back　to　his　face。
〃I　don't　blame　you；〃　he　said。
Rodolphe　was　dumb。　And　Charles；　his　head　in　his　hands；　went　on　in
a　broken　voice；　and　with　the　resigned　accent　of　infinite　sorrow
〃No；　I　don't　blame　you　now。〃
He　even　added　a　fine　phrase；　the　only　one　he　ever　made
〃It　is　the　fault　of　fatality！〃
Rodolphe；　who　had　managed　the　fatality；　thought　the　remark　very
offhand　from　a　man　in　his　position；　comic　even；　and　a　little
mean。
The　next　day　Charles　went　to　sit　down　on　the　seat　in　the　arbour。
Rays　of　light　were　straying　through　the　trellis；　the　vine　leaves
threw　their　shadows　on　the　sand；　the　jasmines　perfumed　the　air；
the　heavens　were　blue；　Spanish　flies　buzzed　round　the　lilies　in
bloom；　and　Charles　was　suffocating　like　a　youth　beneath　the　vague
love　influences　that　filled　his　aching　heart。
At　seven　o'clock　little　Berthe；　who　had　not　seen　him　all　the
afternoon；　went　to　fetch　him　to　dinner。
His　head　was　thrown　back　against　the　wall；　his　eyes　closed；　his
mouth　open；　and　in　his　hand　was　a　long　tress　of　black　hair。
〃Come　along；　papa；〃　she　said。
And　thinking　he　wanted　to　play；　she　pushed　him　gently。　He　fell　to
the　ground。　He　was　dead。
Thirty…six　hours　after；　at　the　druggist's　request；　Monsieur
Canivet　came　thither。　He　made　a　post…mortem　and　found　nothing。
When　everything　had　been　sold；　twelve　francs　seventy…five
centimes　remained；　that　served　to　pay　for　Mademoiselle　Bovary's
going　to　her　grandmother。　The　good　woman　died　the　same　year；　old
Rouault　was　paralysed；　and　it　was　an　aunt　who　took　charge　of　her。
She　is　poor；　and　sends　her　to　a　cotton…factory　to　earn　a　living。
Since　Bovary's　death　three　doctors　have　followed　one　another　at
Yonville　without　any　success；　so　severely　did　Homais　attack　them。
He　has　an　enormous　practice；　the　authorities　treat　him　with
consideration；　and　public　opinion　protects　him。
He　has　just　received　the　cross　of　the　Legion　of　Honour。



End