The head-master made a sign to us to sit down. Then, turning to the class-master, he said to him in a low voice —
“Monsieur Roger, here is a pupil whom I recommend to your care; he’ll be in the second. If his work and conduct are satisfactory, he will go into one of the upper classes, as becomes his age.”
The “new fellow,” standing1 in the corner behind the door so that he could hardly be seen, was a country lad of about fifteen, and taller than any of us. His hair was cut square on his forehead like a village chorister’s; he looked reliable, but very ill at ease. Although he was not broad-shouldered, his short school jacket of green cloth with black buttons must have been tight about the arm-holes, and showed at the opening of the cuffs2 red wrists accustomed to being bare. His legs, in blue stockings, looked out from beneath yellow trousers, drawn3 tight by braces4, He wore stout5, ill-cleaned, hob-nailed boots.
We began repeating the lesson. He listened with all his ears, as attentive6 as if at a sermon, not daring even to cross his legs or lean on his elbow; and when at two o’clock the bell rang, the master was obliged to tell him to fall into line with the rest of us.
When we came back to work, we were in the habit of throwing our caps on the ground so as to have our hands more free; we used from the door to toss them under the form, so that they hit against the wall and made a lot of dust: it was “the thing.”
But, whether he had not noticed the trick, or did not dare to attempt it, the “new fellow,” was still holding his cap on his knees even after prayers were over. It was one of those head-gears of composite order, in which we can find traces of the bearskin, shako, billycock hat, sealskin cap, and cotton night-cap; one of those poor things, in fine, whose dumb ugliness has depths of expression, like an imbecile’s face. Oval, stiffened7 with whalebone, it began with three round knobs; then came in succession lozenges of velvet8 and rabbit-skin separated by a red band; after that a sort of bag that ended in a cardboard polygon9 covered with complicated braiding, from which hung, at the end of a long thin cord, small twisted gold threads in the manner of a tassel10. The cap was new; its peak shone.
“Rise,” said the master.
He stood up; his cap fell. The whole class began to laugh. He stooped to pick it up. A neighbor knocked it down again with his elbow; he picked it up once more.
“Get rid of your helmet,” said the master, who was a bit of a wag.
There was a burst of laughter from the boys, which so thoroughly11 put the poor lad out of countenance12 that he did not know whether to keep his cap in his hand, leave it on the ground, or put it on his head. He sat down again and placed it on his knee.
“Rise,” repeated the master, “and tell me your name.”
The new boy articulated in a stammering13 voice an unintelligible14 name.
“Again!”
The same sputtering15 of syllables16 was heard, drowned by the tittering of the class.
“Louder!” cried the master; “louder!”
The “new fellow” then took a supreme17 resolution, opened an inordinately18 large mouth, and shouted at the top of his voice as if calling someone in the word “Charbovari.”
A hubbub19 broke out, rose in crescendo20 with bursts of shrill21 voices (they yelled, barked, stamped, repeated “Charbovari! Charbovari”), then died away into single notes, growing quieter only with great difficulty, and now and again suddenly recommencing along the line of a form whence rose here and there, like a damp cracker22 going off, a stifled23 laugh.
However, amid a rain of impositions, order was gradually re-established in the class; and the master having succeeded in catching24 the name of “Charles Bovary,” having had it dictated25 to him, spelt out, and re-read, at once ordered the poor devil to go and sit down on the punishment form at the foot of the master’s desk. He got up, but before going hesitated.
“What are you looking for?” asked the master.
“My c-a-p,” timidly said the “new fellow,” casting troubled looks round him.
“Five hundred lines for all the class!” shouted in a furious voice stopped, like the Quos ego1, a fresh outburst. “Silence!” continued the master indignantly, wiping his brow with his handkerchief, which he had just taken from his cap. “As to you, ‘new boy,’ you will conjugate26 ‘ridiculus sum’2 twenty times.”
Then, in a gentler tone, “Come, you’ll find your cap again; it hasn’t been stolen.”
Quiet was restored. Heads bent27 over desks, and the “new fellow” remained for two hours in an exemplary attitude, although from time to time some paper pellet flipped28 from the tip of a pen came bang in his face. But he wiped his face with one hand and continued motionless, his eyes lowered.
In the evening, at preparation, he pulled out his pens from his desk, arranged his small belongings29, and carefully ruled his paper. We saw him working conscientiously30, looking up every word in the dictionary, and taking the greatest pains. Thanks, no doubt, to the willingness he showed, he had not to go down to the class below. But though he knew his rules passably, he had little finish in composition. It was the cure of his village who had taught him his first Latin; his parents, from motives31 of economy, having sent him to school as late as possible.
His father, Monsieur Charles Denis Bartolome Bovary, retired32 assistant-surgeon-major, compromised about 1812 in certain conscription scandals, and forced at this time to leave the service, had taken advantage of his fine figure to get hold of a dowry of sixty thousand francs that offered in the person of a hosier’s daughter who had fallen in love with his good looks. A fine man, a great talker, making his spurs ring as he walked, wearing whiskers that ran into his moustache, his fingers always garnished34 with rings and dressed in loud colours, he had the dash of a military man with the easy go of a commercial traveller.
Once married, he lived for three or four years on his wife’s fortune, dining well, rising late, smoking long porcelain35 pipes, not coming in at night till after the theatre, and haunting cafes. The father-in-law died, leaving little; he was indignant at this, “went in for the business,” lost some money in it, then retired to the country, where he thought he would make money.
But, as he knew no more about farming than calico, as he rode his horses instead of sending them to plough, drank his cider in bottle instead of selling it in cask, ate the finest poultry36 in his farmyard, and greased his hunting-boots with the fat of his pigs, he was not long in finding out that he would do better to give up all speculation37.
For two hundred francs a year he managed to live on the border of the provinces of Caux and Picardy, in a kind of place half farm, half private house; and here, soured, eaten up with regrets, cursing his luck, jealous of everyone, he shut himself up at the age of forty-five, sick of men, he said, and determined38 to live at peace.
His wife had adored him once on a time; she had bored him with a thousand servilities that had only estranged39 him the more. Lively once, expansive and affectionate, in growing older she had become (after the fashion of wine that, exposed to air, turns to vinegar) ill-tempered, grumbling40, irritable41. She had suffered so much without complaint at first, until she had seem him going after all the village drabs, and until a score of bad houses sent him back to her at night, weary, stinking42 drunk. Then her pride revolted. After that she was silent, burying her anger in a dumb stoicism that she maintained till her death. She was constantly going about looking after business matters. She called on the lawyers, the president, remembered when bills fell due, got them renewed, and at home ironed, sewed, washed, looked after the workmen, paid the accounts, while he, troubling himself about nothing, eternally besotted in sleepy sulkiness, whence he only roused himself to say disagreeable things to her, sat smoking by the fire and spitting into the cinders43.
When she had a child, it had to be sent out to nurse. When he 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 maternal44 ideas, he had a certain virile45 idea of childhood on which he sought to mould his son, wishing him to be brought up hardily46, like a Spartan47, to give him a strong constitution. He sent him to bed without any fire, taught him to drink off large draughts48 of rum and to jeer49 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 monologues50 full of melancholy51 gaiety and charming nonsense. In her life’s isolation52 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 ravens53 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 toll54 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 Angelus3. They went up to his room and settled down; the flies and moths55 fluttered round the candle. It was close, the child fell asleep, and the good man, beginning to doze56 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.
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 temperament57, 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 parentis4 a wholesale58 ironmonger in the Rue59 Ganterie, who took him out once a month on Sundays after his shop was shut, sent him for a walk on the quay60 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.
By dint61 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 syllabus62 that he read on the notice-board stunned63 him; lectures on anatomy64, lectures on pathology, lectures on physiology65, lectures on pharmacy66, lectures on botany and clinical medicine, and therapeutics, without counting hygiene67 and materia medica — all names of whose etymologies68 he was ignorant, and that were to him as so many doors to sanctuaries69 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 veal70 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 attics71, 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 nostrils72 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 indifference73, 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 esteem74. 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 boon75 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 injustice76 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 crammed77 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 it; he must have a wife. She found him one — the widow of a bailiff at Dieppe — who was forty-five and had an income of twelve hundred francs. Though she was ugly, as dry as a bone, her face with as many pimples78 as the spring has buds, Madame Dubuc had no lack of suitors. To attain79 her ends Madame Bovary had to oust33 them all, and she even succeeded in very cleverly baffling the intrigues80 of a port-butcher backed up by the priests.
Charles had seen in marriage the advent81 of an easier life, thinking he would be more free to do as he liked with himself and his money. But his wife was master; he had to say this and not say that in company, to fast every Friday, dress as she liked, harass82 at her bidding those patients who did not pay. She opened his letter, watched his comings and goings, and listened at the partition-wall when women came to consult him in his surgery.
She must have her chocolate every morning, attentions without end. She constantly complained of her nerves, her chest, her liver. The noise of footsteps made her ill; when people left her, solitude83 became odious84 to her; if they came back, it was doubtless to see her die. When Charles returned in the evening, she stretched forth85 two long thin arms from beneath the sheets, put them round his neck, and having made him sit down on the edge of the bed, began to talk to him of her troubles: he was neglecting her, he loved another. She had been warned she would be unhappy; and she ended by asking him for a dose of medicine and a little more love.
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1
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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2
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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3
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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4
braces
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| n.吊带，背带；托架( brace的名词复数 )；箍子；括弧；（儿童）牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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7
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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8
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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polygon
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| n.多边形；多角形 | |
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tassel
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| n.流苏，穗；v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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13
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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14
unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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15
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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16
syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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inordinately
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| adv.无度地，非常地 | |
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hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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crescendo
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| n.(音乐)渐强，高潮 | |
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21
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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cracker
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| n.（无甜味的）薄脆饼干 | |
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23
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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24
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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26
conjugate
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| vt.使成对，使结合；adj.共轭的，成对的 | |
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27
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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28
flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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oust
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| vt.剥夺，取代，驱逐 | |
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garnished
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| v.给（上餐桌的食物）加装饰( garnish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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estranged
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| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
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40
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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41
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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42
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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43
cinders
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| n.煤渣( cinder的名词复数 )；炭渣；煤渣路；煤渣跑道 | |
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44
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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45
virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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46
hardily
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| 耐劳地，大胆地，蛮勇地 | |
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47
spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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48
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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49
jeer
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| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
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50
monologues
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| n.（戏剧）长篇独白( monologue的名词复数 )；滔滔不绝的讲话；独角戏 | |
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51
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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52
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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53
ravens
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| n.低质煤；渡鸦( raven的名词复数 ) | |
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54
toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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55
moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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56
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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syllabus
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| n.教学大纲，课程大纲 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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physiology
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| n.生理学，生理机能 | |
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pharmacy
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| n.药房，药剂学，制药业，配药业，一批备用药品 | |
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hygiene
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| n.健康法，卫生学 （a.hygienic） | |
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68
etymologies
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| n.词源学，词源说明( etymology的名词复数 ) | |
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69
sanctuaries
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| n.避难所( sanctuary的名词复数 )；庇护；圣所；庇护所 | |
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veal
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| n.小牛肉 | |
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attics
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| n. 阁楼 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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73
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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pimples
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| n.丘疹，粉刺，小脓疱( pimple的名词复数 ) | |
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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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harass
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| vt.使烦恼，折磨，骚扰 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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