One morning as she was thus returning, she suddenly thought she saw the long barrel of a carbine that seemed to be aimed at her. It stuck out sideways from the end of a small tub half-buried in the grass on the edge of a ditch. Emma, half-fainting with terror, nevertheless walked on, and a man stepped out of the tub like a Jack-in-the-box. He had gaiters buckled2 up to the knees, his cap pulled down over his eyes, trembling lips, and a red nose. It was Captain Binet lying in ambush3 for wild ducks.
“You ought to have called out long ago!” he exclaimed; “When one sees a gun, one should always give warning.”
The tax-collector was thus trying to hide the fright he had had, for a prefectorial order having prohibited duckhunting except in boats, Monsieur Binet, despite his respect for the laws, was infringing4 them, and so he every moment expected to see the rural guard turn up. But this anxiety whetted5 his pleasure, and, all alone in his tub, he congratulated himself on his luck and on his cuteness. At sight of Emma he seemed relieved from a great weight, and at once entered upon a conversation.
“It isn’t warm; it’s nipping.”
Emma answered nothing. He went on —
“And you’re out so early?”
“Yes,” she said stammering6; “I am just coming from the nurse where my child is.”
“Ah! very good! very good! For myself, I am here, just as you see me, since break of day; but the weather is so muggy7, that unless one had the bird at the mouth of the gun —”
“Good evening, Monsieur Binet,” she interrupted him, turning on her heel.
“Your servant, madame,” he replied drily; and he went back into his tub.
Emma regretted having left the tax-collector so abruptly8. No doubt he would form unfavourable conjectures9. The story about the nurse was the worst possible excuse, everyone at Yonville knowing that the little Bovary had been at home with her parents for a year. Besides, no one was living in this direction; this path led only to La Huchette. Binet, then, would guess whence she came, and he would not keep silence; he would talk, that was certain. She remained until evening racking her brain with every conceivable lying project, and had constantly before her eyes that imbecile with the game-bag.
Charles after dinner, seeing her gloomy, proposed, by way of distraction10, to take her to the chemist’s, and the first person she caught sight of in the shop was the taxcollector again. He was standing11 in front of the counter, lit up by the gleams of the red bottle, and was saying —
“Please give me half an ounce of vitriol.”
“Justin,” cried the druggist, “bring us the sulphuric acid.” Then to Emma, who was going up to Madame Homais’ room, “No, stay here; it isn’t worth while going up; she is just coming down. Warm yourself at the stove in the meantime. Excuse me. Good-day, doctor,” (for the chemist much enjoyed pronouncing the word “doctor,” as if addressing another by it reflected on himself some of the grandeur12 that he found in it). “Now, take care not to upset the mortars13! You’d better fetch some chairs from the little room; you know very well that the arm-chairs are not to be taken out of the drawing-room.”
And to put his arm-chair back in its place he was darting14 away from the counter, when Binet asked him for half an ounce of sugar acid.
“Sugar acid!” said the chemist contemptuously, “don’t know it; I’m ignorant of it! But perhaps you want oxalic acid. It is oxalic acid, isn’t it?”
Binet explained that he wanted a corrosive15 to make himself some copperwater with which to remove rust16 from his hunting things.
Emma shuddered17. The chemist began saying —
“Indeed the weather is not propitious18 on account of the damp.”
“Nevertheless,” replied the tax-collector, with a sly look, “there are people who like it.”
She was stifling19.
“And give me —”
“Will he never go?” thought she.
“Half an ounce of resin20 and turpentine, four ounces of yellow wax, and three half ounces of animal charcoal21, if you please, to clean the varnished22 leather of my togs.”
The druggist was beginning to cut the wax when Madame Homais appeared, Irma in her arms, Napoleon by her side, and Athalie following. She sat down on the velvet23 seat by the window, and the lad squatted24 down on a footstool, while his eldest25 sister hovered26 round the jujube box near her papa. The latter was filling funnels27 and corking28 phials, sticking on labels, making up parcels. Around him all were silent; only from time to time, were heard the weights jingling29 in the balance, and a few low words from the chemist giving directions to his pupil.
“And how’s the little woman?” suddenly asked Madame Homais.
“Silence!” exclaimed her husband, who was writing down some figures in his waste-book.
“Why didn’t you bring her?” she went on in a low voice.
“Hush30! hush!” said Emma, pointing with her finger to the druggist.
But Binet, quite absorbed in looking over his bill, had probably heard nothing. At last he went out. Then Emma, relieved, uttered a deep sigh.
“How hard you are breathing!” said Madame Homais.
“Well, you see, it’s rather warm,” she replied.
So the next day they talked over how to arrange their rendezvous31. Emma wanted to bribe32 her servant with a present, but it would be better to find some safe house at Yonville. Rodolphe promised to look for one.
All through the winter, three or four times a week, in the dead of night he came to the garden. Emma had on purpose taken away the key of the gate, which Charles thought lost.
To call her, Rodolphe threw a sprinkle of sand at the shutters33. She jumped up with a start; but sometimes he had to wait, for Charles had a mania34 for chatting by the fireside, and he would not stop. She was wild with impatience35; if her eyes could have done it, she would have hurled36 him out at the window. At last she would begin to undress, then take up a book, and go on reading very quietly as if the book amused her. But Charles, who was in bed, called to her to come too.
“Come, now, Emma,” he said, “it is time.”
“Yes, I am coming,” she answered.
Then, as the candles dazzled him; he turned to the wall and fell asleep. She escaped, smiling, palpitating, undressed. Rodolphe had a large cloak; he wrapped her in it, and putting his arm round her waist, he drew her without a word to the end of the garden.
It was in the arbour, on the same seat of old sticks where formerly37 Leon had looked at her so amorously38 on the summer evenings. She never thought of him now.
The stars shone through the leafless jasmine branches. Behind them they heard the river flowing, and now and again on the bank the rustling39 of the dry reeds. Masses of shadow here and there loomed40 out in the darkness, and sometimes, vibrating with one movement, they rose up and swayed like immense black waves pressing forward to engulf41 them. The cold of the nights made them clasp closer; the sighs of their lips seemed to them deeper; their eyes that they could hardly see, larger; and in the midst of the silence low words were spoken that fell on their souls sonorous43, crystalline, and that reverberated44 in multiplied vibrations45.
When the night was rainy, they took refuge in the consulting-room between the cart-shed and the stable. She lighted one of the kitchen candles that she had hidden behind the books. Rodolphe settled down there as if at home. The sight of the library, of the bureau, of the whole apartment, in fine, excited his merriment, and he could not refrain from making jokes about Charles, which rather embarrassed Emma. She would have liked to see him more serious, and even on occasions more dramatic; as, for example, when she thought she heard a noise of approaching steps in the alley46.
“Someone is coming!” she said.
He blew out the light.
“Have you your pistols?”
“Why?”
“Why, to defend yourself,” replied Emma.
“From your husband? Oh, poor devil!” And Rodolphe finished his sentence with a gesture that said, “I could crush him with a flip47 of my finger.”
She was wonder-stricken at his bravery, although she felt in it a sort of indecency and a naive48 coarseness that scandalised her.
Rodolphe reflected a good deal on the affair of the pistols. If she had spoken seriously, it was very ridiculous, he thought, even odious49; for he had no reason to hate the good Charles, not being what is called devoured50 by jealousy51; and on this subject Emma had taken a great vow52 that he did not think in the best of taste.
Besides, she was growing very sentimental53. She had insisted on exchanging miniatures; they had cut off handfuls of hair, and now she was asking for a ring — a real wedding-ring, in sign of an eternal union. She often spoke42 to him of the evening chimes, of the voices of nature. Then she talked to him of her mother — hers! and of his mother — his! Rodolphe had lost his twenty years ago. Emma none the less consoled him with caressing54 words as one would have done a lost child, and she sometimes even said to him, gazing at the moon
“I am sure that above there together they approve of our love.”
But she was so pretty. He had possessed55 so few women of such ingenuousness56. This love without debauchery was a new experience for him, and, drawing him out of his lazy habits, caressed57 at once his pride and his sensuality. Emma’s enthusiasm, which his bourgeois58 good sense disdained59, seemed to him in his heart of hearts charming, since it was lavished60 on him. Then, sure of being loved, he no longer kept up appearances, and insensibly his ways changed.
He had no longer, as formerly, words so gentle that they made her cry, nor passionate61 caresses62 that made her mad, so that their great love, which engrossed63 her life, seemed to lessen64 beneath her like the water of a stream absorbed into its channel, and she could see the bed of it. She would not believe it; she redoubled in tenderness, and Rodolphe concealed65 his indifference66 less and less.
She did not know if she regretted having yielded to him, or whether she did not wish, on the contrary, to enjoy him the more. The humiliation67 of feeling herself weak was turning to rancour, tempered by their voluptuous68 pleasures. It was not affection; it was like a continual seduction. He subjugated69 her; she almost feared him.
Appearances, nevertheless, were calmer than ever, Rodolphe having succeeded in carrying out the adultery after his own fancy; and at the end of six months, when the spring-time came, they were to one another like a married couple, tranquilly70 keeping up a domestic flame.
It was the time of year when old Rouault sent his turkey in remembrance of the setting of his leg. The present always arrived with a letter. Emma cut the string that tied it to the basket, and read the following lines:—
“My Dear Children — I hope this will find you well, and that this one will be as good as the others. For it seems to me a little more tender, if I may venture to say so, and heavier. But next time, for a change, I’ll give you a turkeycock, unless you have a preference for some dabs71; and send me back the hamper72, if you please, with the two old ones. I have had an accident with my cart-sheds, whose covering flew off one windy night among the trees. The harvest has not been overgood either. Finally, I don’t know when I shall come to see you. It is so difficult now to leave the house since I am alone, my poor Emma.”
Here there was a break in the lines, as if the old fellow had dropped his pen to dream a little while.
“For myself, I am very well, except for a cold I caught the other day at the fair at Yvetot, where I had gone to hire a shepherd, having turned away mine because he was too dainty. How we are to be pitied with such a lot of thieves! Besides, he was also rude. I heard from a pedlar, who, travelling through your part of the country this winter, had a tooth drawn73, that Bovary was as usual working hard. That doesn’t surprise me; and he showed me his tooth; we had some coffee together. I asked him if he had seen you, and he said not, but that he had seen two horses in the stables, from which I conclude that business is looking up. So much the better, my dear children, and may God send you every imaginable happiness! It grieves me not yet to have seen my dear little grand-daughter, Berthe Bovary. I have planted an Orleans plum-tree for her in the garden under your room, and I won’t have it touched unless it is to have jam made for her by and bye, that I will keep in the cupboard for her when she comes.
“Good-bye, my dear children. I kiss you, my girl, you too, my son-in-law, and the little one on both cheeks. I am, with best compliments, your loving father.
“Theodore Rouault.”
She held the coarse paper in her fingers for some minutes. The spelling mistakes were interwoven one with the other, and Emma followed the kindly74 thought that cackled right through it like a hen half hidden in the hedge of thorns. The writing had been dried with ashes from the hearth75, for a little grey powder slipped from the letter on to her dress, and she almost thought she saw her father bending over the hearth to take up the tongs76. How long since she had been with him, sitting on the footstool in the chimney-corner, where she used to burn the end of a bit of wood in the great flame of the sea-sedges! She remembered the summer evenings all full of sunshine. The colts neighed when anyone passed by, and galloped77, galloped. Under her window there was a beehive, and sometimes the bees wheeling round in the light struck against her window like rebounding78 balls of gold. What happiness there had been at that time, what freedom, what hope! What an abundance of illusions! Nothing was left of them now. She had got rid of them all in her soul’s life, in all her successive conditions of lifemaidenhood, her marriage, and her love — thus constantly losing them all her life through, like a traveller who leaves something of his wealth at every inn along his road.
But what then, made her so unhappy? What was the extraordinary catastrophe79 that had transformed her? And she raised her head, looking round as if to seek the cause of that which made her suffer.
An April ray was dancing on the china of the whatnot; the fire burned; beneath her slippers80 she felt the softness of the carpet; the day was bright, the air warm, and she heard her child shouting with laughter.
In fact, the little girl was just then rolling on the lawn in the midst of the grass that was being turned. She was lying flat on her stomach at the top of a rick. The servant was holding her by her skirt. Lestiboudois was raking by her side, and every time he came near she lent forward, beating the air with both her arms.
“Bring her to me,” said her mother, rushing to embrace her. “How I love you, my poor child! How I love you!”
Then noticing that the tips of her ears were rather dirty, she rang at once for warm water, and washed her, changed her linen81, her stockings, her shoes, asked a thousand questions about her health, as if on the return from a long journey, and finally, kissing her again and crying a little, she gave her back to the servant, who stood quite thunderstricken at this excess of tenderness.
That evening Rodolphe found her more serious than usual.
“That will pass over,” he concluded; “it’s a whim:”
And he missed three rendezvous running. When he did come, she showed herself cold and almost contemptuous.
“Ah! you’re losing your time, my lady!”
And he pretended not to notice her melancholy82 sighs, nor the handkerchief she took out.
Then Emma repented83. She even asked herself why she detested84 Charles; if it had not been better to have been able to love him? But he gave her no opportunities for such a revival85 of sentiment, so that she was much embarrassed by her desire for sacrifice, when the druggist came just in time to provide her with an opportunity.
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1
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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infringing
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| v.违反（规章等）( infringe的现在分词 )；侵犯（某人的权利）；侵害（某人的自由、权益等） | |
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whetted
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| v.（在石头上）磨（刀、斧等）( whet的过去式和过去分词 )；引起，刺激（食欲、欲望、兴趣等） | |
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stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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muggy
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| adj.闷热的；adv.（天气）闷热而潮湿地；n.（天气）闷热而潮湿 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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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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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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mortars
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| n.迫击炮( mortar的名词复数 )；砂浆；房产；研钵 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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15
corrosive
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| adj.腐蚀性的；有害的；恶毒的 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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17
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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resin
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| n.树脂，松香，树脂制品；vt.涂树脂 | |
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charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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funnels
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| 漏斗( funnel的名词复数 )； （轮船，火车等的）烟囱 | |
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corking
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| adj.很好的adv.非常地v.用瓶塞塞住( cork的现在分词 ) | |
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jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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amorously
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| adv.好色地，妖艳地；脉；脉脉；眽眽 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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engulf
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| vt.吞没，吞食 | |
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42
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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43
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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44
reverberated
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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45
vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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46
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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47
flip
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| vt.快速翻动；轻抛；轻拍；n.轻抛；adj.轻浮的 | |
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48
naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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49
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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50
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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51
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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52
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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53
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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54
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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55
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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56
ingenuousness
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| n.率直；正直；老实 | |
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57
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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subjugated
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| v.征服，降伏( subjugate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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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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hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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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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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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rebounding
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| 蹦跳运动 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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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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repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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