madame bovary(包法利夫人)-第8节

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treat　some　little　work…girl　who　would　have　become　his　mistress？
Afterwards；　he　had　lived　fourteen　months　with　the　widow；　whose
feet　in　bed　were　cold　as　icicles。　But　now　he　had　for　life　this
beautiful　woman　whom　he　adored。　For　him　the　universe　did　not
extend　beyond　the　circumference　of　her　petticoat；　and　he
reproached　himself　with　not　loving　her。　He　wanted　to　see　her
again；　he　turned　back　quickly；　ran　up　the　stairs　with　a　beating
heart。　Emma；　in　her　room；　was　dressing；　he　came　up　on　tiptoe；
kissed　her　back；　she　gave　a　cry。
He　could　not　keep　from　constantly　touching　her　comb；　her　ring；
her　fichu；　sometimes　he　gave　her　great　sounding　kisses　with　all
his　mouth　on　her　cheeks；　or　else　little　kisses　in　a　row　all　along
her　bare　arm　from　the　tip　of　her　fingers　up　to　her　shoulder；　and
she　put　him　away　half…smiling；　half…vexed；　as　you　do　a　child　who
hangs　about　you。
Before　marriage　she　thought　herself　in　love；　but　the　happiness
that　should　have　followed　this　love　not　having　come；　she　must；
she　thought；　have　been　mistaken。　And　Emma　tried　to　find　out　what
one　meant　exactly　in　life　by　the　words　felicity；　passion；
rapture；　that　had　seemed　to　her　so　beautiful　in　books。

Chapter　Six
She　had　read　〃Paul　and　Virginia；〃　and　she　had　dreamed　of　the
little　bamboo…house；　the　nigger　Domingo；　the　dog　Fiddle；　but
above　all　of　the　sweet　friendship　of　some　dear　little　brother；
who　seeks　red　fruit　for　you　on　trees　taller　than　steeples；　or　who
runs　barefoot　over　the　sand；　bringing　you　a　bird's　nest。
When　she　was　thirteen；　her　father　himself　took　her　to　town　to
place　her　in　the　convent。　They　stopped　at　an　inn　in　the　St。
Gervais　quarter；　where；　at　their　supper；　they　used　painted　plates
that　set　forth　the　story　of　Mademoiselle　de　la　Valliere。　The
explanatory　legends；　chipped　here　and　there　by　the　scratching　of
knives；　all　glorified　religion；　the　tendernesses　of　the　heart；
and　the　pomps　of　court。
Far　from　being　bored　at　first　at　the　convent；　she　took　pleasure
in　the　society　of　the　good　sisters；　who；　to　amuse　her；　took　her
to　the　chapel；　which　one　entered　from　the　refectory　by　a　long
corridor。　She　played　very　little　during　recreation　hours；　knew
her　catechism　well；　and　it　was　she　who　always　answered　Monsieur
le　Vicaire's　difficult　questions。　Living　thus；　without　every
leaving　the　warm　atmosphere　of　the　classrooms；　and　amid　these
pale…faced　women　wearing　rosaries　with　brass　crosses；　she　was
softly　lulled　by　the　mystic　languor　exhaled　in　the　perfumes　of
the　altar；　the　freshness　of　the　holy　water；　and　the　lights　of　the
tapers。　Instead　of　attending　to　mass；　she　looked　at　the　pious
vignettes　with　their　azure　borders　in　her　book；　and　she　loved　the
sick　lamb；　the　sacred　heart　pierced　with　sharp　arrows；　or　the
poor　Jesus　sinking　beneath　the　cross　he　carries。　She　tried；　by
way　of　mortification；　to　eat　nothing　a　whole　day。　She　puzzled　her
head　to　find　some　vow　to　fulfil。
When　she　went　to　confession；　she　invented　little　sins　in　order
that　she　might　stay　there　longer；　kneeling　in　the　shadow；　her
hands　joined；　her　face　against　the　grating　beneath　the　whispering
of　the　priest。　The　comparisons　of　betrothed；　husband；　celestial
lover；　and　eternal　marriage；　that　recur　in　sermons；　stirred
within　her　soul　depths　of　unexpected　sweetness。
In　the　evening；　before　prayers；　there　was　some　religious　reading
in　the　study。　On　week…nights　it　was　some　abstract　of　sacred
history　or　the　Lectures　of　the　Abbe　Frayssinous；　and　on　Sundays
passages　from　the　〃Genie　du　Christianisme；〃　as　a　recreation。　How
she　listened　at　first　to　the　sonorous　lamentations　of　its
romantic　melancholies　reechoing　through　the　world　and　eternity！
If　her　childhood　had　been　spent　in　the　shop…parlour　of　some
business　quarter；　she　might　perhaps　have　opened　her　heart　to
those　lyrical　invasions　of　Nature；　which　usually　come　to　us　only
through　translation　in　books。　But　she　knew　the　country　too　well；
she　knew　the　lowing　of　cattle；　the　milking；　the　ploughs。
Accustomed　to　calm　aspects　of　life；　she　turned；　on　the　contrary；
to　those　of　excitement。　She　loved　the　sea　only　for　the　sake　of
its　storms；　and　the　green　fields　only　when　broken　up　by　ruins。
She　wanted　to　get　some　personal　profit　out　of　things；　and　she
rejected　as　useless　all　that　did　not　contribute　to　the　immediate
desires　of　her　heart；　being　of　a　temperament　more　sentimental
than　artistic；　looking　for　emotions；　not　landscapes。
At　the　convent　there　was　an　old　maid　who　came　for　a　week　each
month　to　mend　the　linen。　Patronized　by　the　clergy；　because　she
belonged　to　an　ancient　family　of　noblemen　ruined　by　the
Revolution；　she　dined　in　the　refectory　at　the　table　of　the　good
sisters；　and　after　the　meal　had　a　bit　of　chat　with　them　before
going　back　to　her　work。　The　girls　often　slipped　out　from　the
study　to　go　and　see　her。　She　knew　by　heart　the　love　songs　of　the
last　century；　and　sang　them　in　a　low　voice　as　she　stitched　away。
She　told　stories；　gave　them　news；　went　errands　in　the　town；　and
on　the　sly　lent　the　big　girls　some　novel；　that　she　always　carried
in　the　pockets　of　her　apron；　and　of　which　the　good　lady　herself
swallowed　long　chapters　in　the　intervals　of　her　work。　They　were
all　love；　lovers；　sweethearts；　persecuted　ladies　fainting　in
lonely　pavilions；　postilions　killed　at　every　stage；　horses　ridden
to　death　on　every　page；　sombre　forests；　heartaches；　vows；　sobs；
tears　and　kisses；　little　skiffs　by　moonlight；　nightingales　in
shady　groves；　〃gentlemen〃　brave　as　lions；　gentle　as　lambs；
virtuous　as　no　one　ever　was；　always　well　dressed；　and　weeping
like　fountains。　For　six　months；　then；　Emma；　at　fifteen　years　of
age；　made　her　hands　dirty　with　books　from　old　lending　libraries。
Through　Walter　Scott；　later　on；　she　fell　in　love　with　historical
events；　dreamed　of　old　chests；　guard…rooms　and　minstrels。　She
would　have　liked　to　live　in　some　old　manor…house；　like　those
long…waisted　chatelaines　who；　in　the　shade　of　pointed　arches；
spent　their　days　leaning　on　the　stone；　chin　in　hand；　watching　a
cavalier　with　white　plume　galloping　on　his　black　horse　from　the
distant　fields。　At　this　time　she　had　a　cult　for　Mary　Stuart　and
enthusiastic　veneration　for　illustrious　or　unhappy　women。　Joan　of
Arc；　Heloise；　Agnes　Sorel；　the　beautiful　Ferroniere；　and　Clemence
Isaure　stood　out　to　her　like　comets　in　the　dark　immensity　of
heaven；　where　also　were　seen；　lost　in　shadow；　and　all
unconnected；　St。　Louis　with　his　oak；　the　dying　Bayard；　some
cruelties　of　Louis　XI；　a　little　of　St。　Bartholomew's　Day；　the
plume　of　the　Bearnais；　and　always　the　remembrance　of　the　plates
painted　in　honour　of　Louis　XIV。
In　the　music　class；　in　the　ballads　she　sang；　there　was　nothing
but　little　angels　with　golden　wings；　madonnas；　lagunes；
gondoliers；…mild　compositions　that　allowed　her　to　catch　a　glimpse
athwart　the　obscurity　of　style　and　the　weakness　of　the　music　of
the　attractive　phantasmagoria　of　sentimental　realities。　Some　of
her　companions　brought　〃keepsakes〃　given　them　as　new　year's　gifts
to　the　convent。　These　had　to　be　hidden；　it　was　quite　an
undertaking；　they　were　read　in　the　dormitory。　Delicately　handling
the　beautiful　satin　bindings；　Emma　looked　with　dazzled　eyes　at
the　names　of　the　unknown　authors；　who　had　signed　their　verses　for
the　most　part　as　counts　or　viscounts。
She　trembled　as　she　blew　back　the　tissue　paper　over　the　engraving
and　saw　it　folded　in　two　and　fall　gently　against　the　page。　Here
behind　the　balustrade　of　a　balcony　was　a　young　man　in　a　short
cloak；　holding　in　his　arms　a　young　girl　in　a　white　dress　wearing
an　alms…bag　at　her　belt；　or　there　were　nameless　portraits　of
English　ladies　with　fair　curls；　who　looked　at　you　from　under
their　round　straw　hats　with　their　large　clear　eyes。　Some　there
were　lounging　in　their　carriages；　gliding　through　parks；　a
greyhound　bounding　along　in　front　of　the　equipage　driven　at　a
trot　by　two　midget　postilions　in　white　breeches。　Others；　dreaming
on　sofas　with　an　open　letter；　gazed　at　the　moon　through　a
slightly　open　window　half　draped　by　a　black　curtain。　The　naive
ones；　a　tear　on　their　cheeks；　were　kissing　doves　through　the　bars
of　a　Gothic　cage；　or；　smiling；　their　heads　on　one　side；　were
plucking　the　leaves　of　a　marguerite　with　their　taper　fingers；
that　curved　at　the　tips　like　peaked　shoes。　And　you；　too；　were
there；　Sultans　with　long　pipes　reclining　beneath　arbours　in　the
arms　of　Bayaderes；　Djiaours；　Turkish　sabres；　Greek　caps；　and　you
especially；　pale　landscapes　of　dithyrambic　lands；　that　often　show
us　at　once　palm　trees　and　firs；　tigers　on　the　right；　a　lion　to
the　left；　Tartar　minarets　on　the　horizon；　the　whole　framed　by　a
very　neat　virgin　forest；　and　with　a　great　perpendicular　sunbeam
trembling　in　the　water；　where；　standing　out　in　relief　like　white
excoriations　on　a　steel…grey　ground；　swans　are　swimming　about。
And　the　shade　of　the　argand　lamp　fastened　to　the　wall　above
Emma's　head　lighted　up　all　these　pictures　of　the　world；　that
passed　before　her　one　by　one　in　the　silence　of　the　dormitory；　and
to　the　distant　noise　of　some　belated　carriage　rolling　over　the
Boulevards。
When　her　mother　died　she　cried　much　the　first　few　days。　She　had　a
funeral　picture　made　with　the　hair　of　the　deceased；　and；　in　a
letter　sent　to　the　Bertaux　full　of　sad　reflections　on　life；　she
ask