As on the return from Vaubyessard, when the quadrilles were running in her head, she was full of a gloomy melancholy8, of a numb9 despair. Leon reappeared, taller, handsomer, more charming, more vague. Though separated from her, he had not left her; he was there, and the walls of the house seemed to hold his shadow.
She could not detach her eyes from the carpet where he had walked, from those empty chairs where he had sat. The river still flowed on, and slowly drove its ripples10 along the slippery banks.
They had often walked there to the murmur11 of the waves over the moss-covered pebbles12. How bright the sun had been! What happy afternoons they had seen along in the shade at the end of the garden! He read aloud, bareheaded, sitting on a footstool of dry sticks; the fresh wind of the meadow set trembling the leaves of the book and the nasturtiums of the arbour. Ah! he was gone, the only charm of her life, the only possible hope of joy. Why had she not seized this happiness when it came to her? Why not have kept hold of it with both hands, with both knees, when it was about to flee from her? And she cursed herself for not having loved Leon. She thirsted for his lips. The wish took possession of her to run after and rejoin him, throw herself into his arms and say to him, “It is I; I am yours.” But Emma recoiled13 beforehand at the difficulties of the enterprise, and her desires, increased by regret, became only the more acute.
Henceforth the memory of Leon was the centre of her boredom14; it burnt there more brightly than the fire travellers have left on the snow of a Russian steppe. She sprang towards him, she pressed against him, she stirred carefully the dying embers, sought all around her anything that could revive it; and the most distant reminiscences, like the most immediate15 occasions, what she experienced as well as what she imagined, her voluptuous16 desires that were unsatisfied, her projects of happiness that crackled in the wind like dead boughs17, her sterile18 virtue19, her lost hopes, the domestic tete-a-tete — she gathered it all up, took everything, and made it all serve as fuel for her melancholy.
The flames, however, subsided20, either because the supply had exhausted21 itself, or because it had been piled up too much. Love, little by little, was quelled22 by absence; regret stifled23 beneath habit; and this incendiary light that had empurpled her pale sky was overspread and faded by degrees. In the supineness of her conscience she even took her repugnance24 towards her husband for aspirations25 towards her lover, the burning of hate for the warmth of tenderness; but as the tempest still raged, and as passion burnt itself down to the very cinders26, and no help came, no sun rose, there was night on all sides, and she was lost in the terrible cold that pierced her.
Then the evil days of Tostes began again. She thought herself now far more unhappy; for she had the experience of grief, with the certainty that it would not end.
A woman who had laid on herself such sacrifices could well allow herself certain whims27. She bought a Gothic prie-dieu, and in a month spent fourteen francs on lemons for polishing her nails; she wrote to Rouen for a blue cashmere gown; she chose one of Lheureux’s finest scarves, and wore it knotted around her waist over her dressing-gown; and, with closed blinds and a book in her hand, she lay stretched out on a couch in this garb29.
She often changed her coiffure; she did her hair a la Chinoise, in flowing curls, in plaited coils; she parted in on one side and rolled it under like a man’s.
She wanted to learn Italian; she bought dictionaries, a grammar, and a supply of white paper. She tried serious reading, history, and philosophy. Sometimes in the night Charles woke up with a start, thinking he was being called to a patient. “I’m coming,” he stammered30; and it was the noise of a match Emma had struck to relight the lamp. But her reading fared like her piece of embroidery31, all of which, only just begun, filled her cupboard; she took it up, left it, passed on to other books.
She had attacks in which she could easily have been driven to commit any folly32. She maintained one day, in opposition33 to her husband, that she could drink off a large glass of brandy, and, as Charles was stupid enough to dare her to, she swallowed the brandy to the last drop.
In spite of her vapourish airs (as the housewives of Yonville called them), Emma, all the same, never seemed gay, and usually she had at the corners of her mouth that immobile contraction34 that puckers35 the faces of old maids, and those of men whose ambition has failed. She was pale all over, white as a sheet; the skin of her nose was drawn36 at the nostrils37, her eyes looked at you vaguely38. After discovering three grey hairs on her temples, she talked much of her old age.
She often fainted. One day she even spat39 blood, and, as Charles fussed around her showing his anxiety —
“Bah!” she answered, “what does it matter?”
Charles fled to his study and wept there, both his elbows on the table, sitting in an arm-chair at his bureau under the phrenological head.
Then he wrote to his mother begging her to come, and they had many long consultations40 together on the subject of Emma.
What should they decide? What was to be done since she rejected all medical treatment? “Do you know what your wife wants?” replied Madame Bovary senior.
“She wants to be forced to occupy herself with some manual work. If she were obliged, like so many others, to earn her living, she wouldn’t have these vapours, that come to her from a lot of ideas she stuffs into her head, and from the idleness in which she lives.
Yet she is always busy,” said Charles.
“Ah! always busy at what? Reading novels, bad books, works against religion, and in which they mock at priests in speeches taken from Voltaire. But all that leads you far astray, my poor child. Anyone who has no religion always ends by turning out badly.”
So it was decided41 to stop Emma reading novels. The enterprise did not seem easy. The good lady undertook it. She was, when she passed through Rouen, to go herself to the lending-library and represent that Emma had discontinued her subscription42. Would they not have a right to apply to the police if the librarian persisted all the same in his poisonous trade? The farewells of mother and daughter-in-law were cold. During the three weeks that they had been together they had not exchanged half-a-dozen words apart from the inquiries43 and phrases when they met at table and in the evening before going to bed.
Madame Bovary left on a Wednesday, the market-day at Yonville.
The Place since morning had been blocked by a row of carts, which, on end and their shafts44 in the air, spread all along the line of houses from the church to the inn. On the other side there were canvas booths, where cotton checks, blankets, and woollen stockings were sold, together with harness for horses, and packets of blue ribbon, whose ends fluttered in the wind. The coarse hardware was spread out on the ground between pyramids of eggs and hampers45 of cheeses, from which sticky straw stuck out.
Near the corn-machines clucking hens passed their necks through the bars of flat cages. The people, crowding in the same place and unwilling46 to move thence, sometimes threatened to smash the shop front of the chemist. On Wednesdays his shop was never empty, and the people pushed in less to buy drugs than for consultations. So great was Homais’ reputation in the neighbouring villages. His robust47 aplomb49 had fascinated the rustics51. They considered him a greater doctor than all the doctors.
Emma was leaning out at the window; she was often there. The window in the provinces replaces the theatre and the promenade52, she was amusing herself with watching the crowd of boors53 when she saw a gentleman in a green velvet54 coat. He had on yellow gloves, although he wore heavy gaiters; he was coming towards the doctor’s house, followed by a peasant walking with a bent55 head and quite a thoughtful air.
“Can I see the doctor?” he asked Justin, who was talking on the doorsteps with Felicite, and, taking him for a servant of the house —“Tell him that Monsieur Rodolphe Boulanger of La Huchette is here.”
It was not from territorial56 vanity that the new arrival added “of La Huchette” to his name, but to make himself the better known.
La Huchette, in fact, was an estate near Yonville, where he had just bought the chateau57 and two farms that he cultivated himself, without, however, troubling very much about them. He lived as a bachelor, and was supposed to have “at least fifteen thousand francs a year.”
Charles came into the room. Monsieur Boulanger introduced his man, who wanted to be bled because he felt “a tingling58 all over.”
“That’ll purge59 me,” he urged as an objection to all reasoning.
So Bovary ordered a bandage and a basin, and asked Justin to hold it. Then addressing the peasant, who was already pale —
“Don’t be afraid, my lad.”
“No, no, sir,” said the other; “get on.”
And with an air of bravado60 he held out his great arm. At the prick61 of the lancet the blood spurted62 out, splashing against the looking-glass.
“Hold the basin nearer,” exclaimed Charles.
“Lor!” said the peasant, “one would swear it was a little fountain flowing. How red my blood is! That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes,” answered the doctor, “one feels nothing at first, and then syncope sets in, and more especially with people of strong constitution like this man.”
At these words the rustic50 let go the lancet-case he was twisting between his fingers. A shudder63 of his shoulders made the chair-back creak. His hat fell off.
“I thought as much,” said Bovary, pressing his finger on the vein64.
The basin was beginning to tremble in Justin’s hands; his knees shook, he turned pale.
“Emma! Emma!” called Charles.
With one bound she came down the staircase.
“Some vinegar,” he cried. “O dear! two at once!”
And in his emotion he could hardly put on the compress.
“It is nothing,” said Monsieur Boulanger quietly, taking Justin in his arms. He seated him on the table with his back resting against the wall.
Madame Bovary began taking off his cravat65. The strings66 of his shirt had got into a knot, and she was for some minutes moving her light fingers about the young fellow’s neck. Then she poured some vinegar on her cambric handkerchief; she moistened his temples with little dabs67, and then blew upon them softly. The ploughman revived, but Justin’s syncope still lasted, and his eyeballs disappeared in the pale sclerotics like blue flowers in milk.
“We must hide this from him,” said Charles.
Madame Bovary took the basin to put it under the table. With the movement she made in bending down, her dress (it was a summer dress with four flounces, yellow, long in the waist and wide in the skirt) spread out around her on the flags of the room; and as Emma stooping, staggered a little as she stretched out her arms.
The stuff here and there gave with the inflections of her bust48.
Then she went to fetch a bottle of water, and she was melting some pieces of sugar when the chemist arrived. The servant had been to fetch him in the tumult68. Seeing his pupil’s eyes staring he drew a long breath; then going around him he looked at him from head to foot.
“Fool!” he said, “really a little fool! A fool in four letters! A phlebotomy’s a big affair, isn’t it! And a fellow who isn’t afraid of anything; a kind of squirrel, just as he is who climbs to vertiginous69 heights to shake down nuts. Oh, yes! you just talk to me, boast about yourself! Here’s a fine fitness for practising pharmacy70 later on; for under serious circumstances you may be called before the tribunals in order to enlighten the minds of the magistrates71, and you would have to keep your head then, to reason, show yourself a man, or else pass for an imbecile.”
Justin did not answer. The chemist went on —
“Who asked you to come? You are always pestering72 the doctor and madame. On Wednesday, moreover, your presence is indispensable to me. There are now twenty people in the shop. I left everything because of the interest I take in you. Come, get along! Sharp! Wait for me, and keep an eye on the jars.”
When Justin, who was rearranging his dress, had gone, they talked for a little while about fainting-fits. Madame Bovary had never fainted.
“That is extraordinary for a lady,” said Monsieur Boulanger; “but some people are very susceptible73. Thus in a duel74, I have seen a second lose consciousness at the mere28 sound of the loading of pistols.”
“For my part,” said the chemist, “the sight of other people’s blood doesn’t affect me at all, but the mere thought of my own flowing would make me faint if I reflected upon it too much.”
Monsieur Boulanger, however, dismissed his servant, advising him to calm himself, since his fancy was over.
“It procured75 me the advantage of making your acquaintance,” he added, and he looked at Emma as he said this. Then he put three francs on the corner of the table, bowed negligently76, and went out.
He was soon on the other side of the river (this was his way back to La Huchette), and Emma saw him in the meadow, walking under the poplars, slackening his pace now and then as one who reflects.
“She is very pretty,” he said to himself; “she is very pretty, this doctor’s wife. Fine teeth, black eyes, a dainty foot, a figure like a Parisienne’s. Where the devil does she come from? Wherever did that fat fellow pick her up?”
Monsieur Rodolphe Boulanger was thirty-four; he was of brutal77 temperament78 and intelligent perspicacity79, having, moreover, had much to do with women, and knowing them well. This one had seemed pretty to him; so he was thinking about her and her husband.
“I think he is very stupid. She is tired of him, no doubt. He has dirty nails, and hasn’t shaved for three days. While he is trotting80 after his patients, she sits there botching socks. And she gets bored! She would like to live in town and dance polkas every evening. Poor little woman! She is gaping81 after love like a carp after water on a kitchen-table. With three words of gallantry she’d adore one, I’m sure of it. She’d be tender, charming. Yes; but how to get rid of her afterwards?”
Then the difficulties of love-making seen in the distance made him by contrast think of his mistress. She was an actress at Rouen, whom he kept; and when he had pondered over this image, with which, even in remembrance, he was satiated —
“Ah! Madame Bovary,” he thought, “is much prettier, especially fresher. Virginie is decidedly beginning to grow fat. She is so finikin about her pleasures; and, besides, she has a mania82 for prawns83.”
The fields were empty, and around him Rodolphe only heard the regular beating of the grass striking against his boots, with a cry of the grasshopper84 hidden at a distance among the oats. He again saw Emma in her room, dressed as he had seen her, and he undressed her.
“Oh, I will have her,” he cried, striking a blow with his stick at a clod in front of him. And he at once began to consider the political part of the enterprise. He asked himself —
“Where shall we meet? By what means? We shall always be having the brat7 on our hands, and the servant, the neighbours, and husband, all sorts of worries. Pshaw! one would lose too much time over it.”
Then he resumed, “She really has eyes that pierce one’s heart like a gimlet. And that pale complexion85! I adore pale women!”
When he reached the top of the Arguiel hills he had made up his mind. “It’s only finding the opportunities. Well, I will call in now and then. I’ll send them venison, poultry86; I’ll have myself bled, if need be. We shall become friends; I’ll invite them to my place. By Jove!” added he, “there’s the agricultural show coming on. She’ll be there. I shall see her. We’ll begin boldly, for that’s the surest way.”
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1
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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brat
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| n.孩子；顽童 | |
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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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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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12
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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13
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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quelled
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| v.（用武力）制止，结束，镇压( quell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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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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WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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contraction
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| n.缩略词，缩写式，害病 | |
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puckers
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的第三人称单数 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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consultations
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| n.磋商（会议）( consultation的名词复数 )；商讨会；协商会；查找 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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44
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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45
hampers
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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46
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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47
robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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48
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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49
aplomb
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| n.沉着，镇静 | |
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50
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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51
rustics
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| n.有农村或村民特色的( rustic的名词复数 )；粗野的；不雅的；用粗糙的木材或树枝制作的 | |
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52
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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53
boors
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| n.农民( boor的名词复数 )；乡下佬；没礼貌的人；粗野的人 | |
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54
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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55
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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56
territorial
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| adj.领土的，领地的 | |
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57
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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58
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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59
purge
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| n.整肃，清除，泻药，净化；vt.净化，清除，摆脱；vi.清除，通便，腹泻，变得清洁 | |
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60
bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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62
spurted
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
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63
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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67
dabs
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| 少许( dab的名词复数 )； 是…能手； 做某事很在行； 在某方面技术熟练 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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vertiginous
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| adj.回旋的；引起头晕的 | |
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70
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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71
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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72
pestering
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| 使烦恼，纠缠( pester的现在分词 ) | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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75
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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negligently
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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perspicacity
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| n. 敏锐, 聪明, 洞察力 | |
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80
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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81
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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82
mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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prawns
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| n.对虾，明虾( prawn的名词复数 ) | |
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84
grasshopper
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| n.蚱蜢，蝗虫，蚂蚱 | |
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85
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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