She entered, as she used to, through the small park-gate. She reached the avenue bordered by a double row of dense6 lime-trees. They were swaying their long whispering branches to and fro. The dogs in their kennels7 all barked, and the noise of their voices resounded8, but brought out no one.
She went up the large straight staircase with wooden balusters that led to the corridor paved with dusty flags, into which several doors in a row opened, as in a monastery9 or an inn. His was at the top, right at the end, on the left. When she placed her fingers on the lock her strength suddenly deserted10 her. She was afraid, almost wished he would not be there, though this was her only hope, her last chance of salvation11. She collected her thoughts for one moment, and, strengthening herself by the feeling of present necessity, went in.
He was in front of the fire, both his feet on the mantelpiece, smoking a pipe.
“What! it is you!” he said, getting up hurriedly.
“Yes, it is I, Rodolphe. I should like to ask your advice.”
And, despite all her efforts, it was impossible for her to open her lips.
“You have not changed; you are charming as ever!”
“Oh,” she replied bitterly, “they are poor charms since you disdained12 them.”
Then he began a long explanation of his conduct, excusing himself in vague terms, in default of being able to invent better.
She yielded to his words, still more to his voice and the sight of him, so that, she pretended to believe, or perhaps believed; in the pretext13 he gave for their rupture14; this was a secret on which depended the honour, the very life of a third person.
“No matter!” she said, looking at him sadly. “I have suffered much.”
He replied philosophically15 —
“Such is life!”
“Has life,” Emma went on, “been good to you at least, since our separation?”
“Oh, neither good nor bad.”
“Perhaps it would have been better never to have parted.”
“Yes, perhaps.”
“You think so?” she said, drawing nearer, and she sighed. “Oh, Rodolphe! if you but knew! I loved you so!”
It was then that she took his hand, and they remained some time, their fingers intertwined, like that first day at the Show. With a gesture of pride he struggled against this emotion. But sinking upon his breast she said to him —
“How did you think I could live without you? One cannot lose the habit of happiness. I was desolate17. I thought I should die. I will tell you about all that and you will see. And you — you fled from me!”
For, all the three years, he had carefully avoided her in consequence of that natural cowardice18 that characterises the stronger sex. Emma went on, with dainty little nods, more coaxing19 than an amorous4 kitten —
“You love others, confess it! Oh, I understand them, dear! I excuse them. You probably seduced20 them as you seduced me. You are indeed a man; you have everything to make one love you. But we’ll begin again, won’t we? We will love one another. See! I am laughing; I am happy! Oh, speak!”
And she was charming to see, with her eyes, in which trembled a tear, like the rain of a storm in a blue corolla.
He had drawn21 her upon his knees, and with the back of his hand was caressing22 her smooth hair, where in the twilight23 was mirrored like a golden arrow one last ray of the sun. She bent24 down her brow; at last he kissed her on the eyelids25 quite gently with the tips of his lips.
“Why, you have been crying! What for?”
She burst into tears. Rodolphe thought this was an outburst of her love. As she did not speak, he took this silence for a last remnant of resistance, and then he cried out —
“Oh, forgive me! You are the only one who pleases me. I was imbecile and cruel. I love you. I will love you always. What is it. Tell me!” He was kneeling by her.
“Well, I am ruined, Rodolphe! You must lend me three thousand francs.”
“But — but —” said he, getting up slowly, while his face assumed a grave expression.
“You know,” she went on quickly, “that my husband had placed his whole fortune at a notary’s. He ran away. So we borrowed; the patients don’t pay us. Moreover, the settling of the estate is not yet done; we shall have the money later on. But to-day, for want of three thousand francs, we are to be sold up. It is to be at once, this very moment, and, counting upon your friendship, I have come to you.”
“Ah!” thought Rodolphe, turning very pale, “that was what she came for.” At last he said with a calm air —
“Dear madame, I have not got them.”
He did not lie. If he had had them, he would, no doubt, have given them, although it is generally disagreeable to do such fine things: a demand for money being, of all the winds that blow upon love, the coldest and most destructive.
First she looked at him for some moments.
“You have not got them!” she repeated several times. “You have not got them! I ought to have spared myself this last shame. You never loved me. You are no better than the others.”
She was betraying, ruining herself.
Rodolphe interrupted her, declaring he was “hard up” himself.
“Ah! I pity you,” said Emma. “Yes — very much.”
And fixing her eyes upon an embossed carabine, that shone against its panoply26, “But when one is so poor one doesn’t have silver on the butt27 of one’s gun. One doesn’t buy a clock inlaid with tortoise shell,” she went on, pointing to a buhl timepiece, “nor silver-gilt whistles for one’s whips,” and she touched them, “nor charms for one’s watch. Oh, he wants for nothing! even to a liqueur-stand in his room! For you love yourself; you live well. You have a chateau, farms, woods; you go hunting; you travel to Paris. Why, if it were but that,” she cried, taking up two studs from the mantelpiece, “but the least of these trifles, one can get money for them. Oh, I do not want them, keep them!”
And she threw the two links away from her, their gold chain breaking as it struck against the wall.
“But I! I would have given you everything. I would have sold all, worked for you with my hands, I would have begged on the highroads for a smile, for a look, to hear you say ‘Thanks!’ And you sit there quietly in your arm-chair, as if you had not made me suffer enough already! But for you, and you know it, I might have lived happily. What made you do it? Was it a bet? Yet you loved me — you said so. And but a moment since — Ah! it would have been better to have driven me away. My hands are hot with your kisses, and there is the spot on the carpet where at my knees you swore an eternity28 of love! You made me believe you; for two years you held me in the most magnificent, the sweetest dream! Eh! Our plans for the journey, do you remember? Oh, your letter! your letter! it tore my heart! And then when I come back to him — to him, rich, happy, free — to implore29 the help the first stranger would give, a suppliant30, and bringing back to him all my tenderness, he repulses31 me because it would cost him three thousand francs!”
“I haven’t got them,” replied Rodolphe, with that perfect calm with which resigned rage covers itself as with a shield.
She went out. The walls trembled, the ceiling was crushing her, and she passed back through the long alley32, stumbling against the heaps of dead leaves scattered33 by the wind. At last she reached the ha-ha hedge in front of the gate; she broke her nails against the lock in her haste to open it. Then a hundred steps farther on, breathless, almost falling, she stopped. And now turning round, she once more saw the impassive chateau, with the park, the gardens, the three courts, and all the windows of the facade34.
She remained lost in stupor35, and having no more consciousness of herself than through the beating of her arteries36, that she seemed to hear bursting forth37 like a deafening38 music filling all the fields. The earth beneath her feet was more yielding than the sea, and the furrows39 seemed to her immense brown waves breaking into foam40. Everything in her head, of memories, ideas, went off at once like a thousand pieces of fireworks. She saw her father, Lheureux’s closet, their room at home, another landscape. Madness was coming upon her; she grew afraid, and managed to recover herself, in a confused way, it is true, for she did not in the, least remember the cause of the terrible condition she was in, that is to say, the question of money. She suffered only in her love, and felt her soul passing from her in this memory; as wounded men, dying, feel their life ebb41 from their bleeding wounds.
Night was falling, crows were flying about.
Suddenly it seemed to her that fiery42 spheres were exploding in the air like fulminating balls when they strike, and were whirling, whirling, to melt at last upon the snow between the branches of the trees. In the midst of each of them appeared the face of Rodolphe. They multiplied and drew near her, penetrating43, her. It all disappeared; she recognised the lights of the houses that shone through the fog.
Now her situation, like an abyss, rose up before her. She was panting as if her heart would burst. Then in an ecstasy44 of heroism45, that made her almost joyous46, she ran down the hill, crossed the cow-plank, the foot-path, the alley, the market, and reached the chemist’s shop. She was about to enter, but at the sound of the bell someone might come, and slipping in by the gate, holding her breath, feeling her way along the walls, she went as far as the door of the kitchen, where a candle stuck on the stove was burning. Justin in his shirt-sleeves was carrying out a dish.
“Ah! they are dining; I will wait.”
He returned; she tapped at the window. He went out.
“The key! the one for upstairs where he keeps the —”
“What?”
And he looked at her, astonished at the pallor of her face, that stood out white against the black background of the night. She seemed to him extraordinarily47 beautiful and majestic48 as a phantom49. Without understanding what she wanted, he had the presentiment50 of something terrible.
But she went on quickly in a love voice; in a sweet, melting voice, “I want it; give it to me.”
As the partition wall was thin, they could hear the clatter51 of the forks on the plates in the dining-room.
She pretended that she wanted to kill the rats that kept her from sleeping.
“I must tell master.”
“No, stay!” Then with an indifferent air, “Oh, it’s not worth while; I’ll tell him presently. Come, light me upstairs.”
She entered the corridor into which the laboratory door opened. Against the wall was a key labelled Capharnaum.
“Justin!” called the druggist impatiently.
“Let us go up.”
And he followed her. The key turned in the lock, and she went straight to the third shelf, so well did her memory guide her, seized the blue jar, tore out the cork52, plunged53 in her hand, and withdrawing it full of a white powder, she began eating it.
“Stop!” he cried, rushing at her.
“Hush! someone will come.”
He was in despair, was calling out.
“Say nothing, or all the blame will fall on your master.”
Then she went home, suddenly calmed, and with something of the serenity55 of one that had performed a duty.
When Charles, distracted by the news of the distraint, returned home, Emma had just gone out. He cried aloud, wept, fainted, but she did not return. Where could she be? He sent Felicite to Homais, to Monsieur Tuvache, to Lheureux, to the “Lion d’Or,” everywhere, and in the intervals56 of his agony he saw his reputation destroyed, their fortune lost, Berthe’s future ruined. By what? — Not a word! He waited till six in the evening. At last, unable to bear it any longer, and fancying she had gone to Rouen, he set out along the highroad, walked a mile, met no one, again waited, and returned home. She had come back.
“What was the matter? Why? Explain to me.”
She sat down at her writing-table and wrote a letter, which she sealed slowly, adding the date and the hour. Then she said in a solemn tone:
“You are to read it to-morrow; till then, I pray you, do not ask me a single question. No, not one!”
“But —”
“Oh, leave me!”
She lay down full length on her bed. A bitter taste that she felt in her mouth awakened57 her. She saw Charles, and again closed her eyes.
She was studying herself curiously58, to see if she were not suffering. But no! nothing as yet. She heard the ticking of the clock, the crackling of the fire, and Charles breathing as he stood upright by her bed.
“Ahl it is but a little thing, death!” she thought. “I shall fall asleep and all will be over.”
She drank a mouthful of water and turned to the wall. The frightful59 taste of ink continued.
“I am thirsty; oh! so thirsty,” she sighed.
“What is it?” said Charles, who was handing her a glass.
“It is nothing! Open the window; I am choking.”
She was seized with a sickness so sudden that she had hardly time to draw out her handkerchief from under the pillow.
“Take it away,” she said quickly; “throw it away.”
He spoke60 to her; she did not answer. She lay motionless, afraid that the slightest movement might make her vomit61. But she felt an icy cold creeping from her feet to her heart.
“Ah! it is beginning,” she murmured.
“What did you say?”
She turned her head from side to side with a gentle movement full of agony, while constantly opening her mouth as if something very heavy were weighing upon her tongue. At eight o’clock the vomiting63 began again.
Charles noticed that at the bottom of the basin there was a sort of white sediment64 sticking to the sides of the porcelain65.
“This is extraordinary — very singular,” he repeated.
But she said in a firm voice, “No, you are mistaken.”
Then gently, and almost as caressing her, he passed his hand over her stomach. She uttered a sharp cry. He fell back terror-stricken.
Then she began to groan66, faintly at first. Her shoulders were shaken by a strong shuddering67, and she was growing paler than the sheets in which her clenched68 fingers buried themselves. Her unequal pulse was now almost imperceptible.
Drops of sweat oozed69 from her bluish face, that seemed as if rigid70 in the exhalations of a metallic71 vapour. Her teeth chattered72, her dilated73 eyes looked vaguely74 about her, and to all questions she replied only with a shake of the head; she even smiled once or twice. Gradually, her moaning grew louder; a hollow shriek75 burst from her; she pretended she was better and that she would get up presently. But she was seized with convulsions and cried out —
“Ah! my God! It is horrible!”
He threw himself on his knees by her bed.
“Tell me! what have you eaten? Answer, for heaven’s sake!”
And he looked at her with a tenderness in his eyes such as she had never seen.
“Well, there — there!” she said in a faint voice. He flew to the writing-table, tore open the seal, and read aloud: “Accuse no one.” He stopped, passed his hands across his eyes, and read it over again.
“What! help — help!”
He could only keep repeating the word: “Poisoned! poisoned!” Felicite ran to Homais, who proclaimed it in the market-place; Madame Lefrancois heard it at the “Lion d’Or”; some got up to go and tell their neighbours, and all night the village was on the alert.
Distraught, faltering76, reeling, Charles wandered about the room. He knocked against the furniture, tore his hair, and the chemist had never believed that there could be so terrible a sight.
He went home to write to Monsieur Canivet and to Doctor Lariviere. He lost his head, and made more than fifteen rough copies. Hippolyte went to Neufchatel, and Justin so spurred Bovary’s horse that he left it foundered77 and three parts dead by the hill at Bois-Guillaume.
Charles tried to look up his medical dictionary, but could not read it; the lines were dancing.
“Be calm,” said the druggist; “we have only to administer a powerful antidote78. What is the poison?”
Charles showed him the letter. It was arsenic79.
“Very well,” said Homais, “we must make an analysis.”
For he knew that in cases of poisoning an analysis must be made; and the other, who did not understand, answered —
“Oh, do anything! save her!”
Then going back to her, he sank upon the carpet, and lay there with his head leaning against the edge of her bed, sobbing80.
“Don’t cry,” she said to him. “Soon I shall not trouble you any more.”
“Why was it? Who drove you to it?”
She replied. “It had to be, my dear!”
“Weren’t you happy? Is it my fault? I did all I could!”
“Yes, that is true — you are good — you.”
And she passed her hand slowly over his hair. The sweetness of this sensation deepened his sadness; he felt his whole being dissolving in despair at the thought that he must lose her, just when she was confessing more love for him than ever. And he could think of nothing; he did not know, he did not dare; the urgent need for some immediate81 resolution gave the finishing stroke to the turmoil82 of his mind.
So she had done, she thought, with all the treachery; and meanness, and numberless desires that had tortured her. She hated no one now; a twilight dimness was settling upon her thoughts, and, of all earthly noises, Emma heard none but the intermittent83 lamentations of this poor heart, sweet and indistinct like the echo of a symphony dying away.
“Bring me the child,” she said, raising herself on her elbow.
“You are not worse, are you?” asked Charles.
“No, no!”
The child, serious, and still half-asleep, was carried in on the servant’s arm in her long white nightgown, from which her bare feet peeped out. She looked wonderingly at the disordered room, and half-closed her eyes, dazzled by the candles burning on the table. They reminded her, no doubt, of the morning of New Year’s day and Mid-Lent, when thus awakened early by candle-light she came to her mother’s bed to fetch her presents, for she began saying —
“But where is it, mamma?” And as everybody was silent, “But I can’t see my little stocking.”
Felicite held her over the bed while she still kept looking towards the mantelpiece.
“Has nurse taken it?” she asked.
And at this name, that carried her back to the memory of her adulteries and her calamities84, Madame Bovary turned away her head, as at the loathing85 of another bitterer poison that rose to her mouth. But Berthe remained perched on the bed.
“Oh, how big your eyes are, mamma! How pale you are! how hot you are!”
Her mother looked at her. “I am frightened!” cried the child, recoiling86.
Emma took her hand to kiss it; the child struggled.
“That will do. Take her away,” cried Charles, who was sobbing in the alcove87.
Then the symptoms ceased for a moment; she seemed less agitated88; and at every insignificant89 word, at every respiration90 a little more easy, he regained91 hope. At last, when Canivet came in, he threw himself into his arms.
“Ah! it is you. Thanks! You are good! But she is better. See! look at her.”
His colleague was by no means of this opinion, and, as he said of himself, “never beating about the bush,” he prescribed, an emetic92 in order to empty the stomach completely.
She soon began vomiting blood. Her lips became drawn. Her limbs were convulsed, her whole body covered with brown spots, and her pulse slipped beneath the fingers like a stretched thread, like a harp-string nearly breaking.
After this she began to scream horribly. She cursed the poison, railed at it, and implored93 it to be quick, and thrust away with her stiffened94 arms everything that Charles, in more agony than herself, tried to make her drink. He stood up, his handkerchief to his lips, with a rattling95 sound in his throat, weeping, and choked by sobs96 that shook his whole body. Felicite was running hither and thither97 in the room. Homais, motionless, uttered great sighs; and Monsieur Canivet, always retaining his self-command, nevertheless began to feel uneasy.
“The devil! yet she has been purged98, and from the moment that the cause ceases —”
“The effect must cease,” said Homais, “that is evident.”
“Oh, save her!” cried Bovary.
And, without listening to the chemist, who was still venturing the hypothesis, “It is perhaps a salutary paroxysm,” Canivet was about to administer some theriac, when they heard the cracking of a whip; all the windows rattled99, and a post-chaise drawn by three horses abreast100, up to their ears in mud, drove at a gallop101 round the corner of the market. It was Doctor Lariviere.
The apparition102 of a god would not have caused more commotion103. Bovary raised his hands; Canivet stopped short; and Homais pulled off his skull-cap long before the doctor had come in.
He belonged to that great school of surgery begotten104 of Bichat, to that generation, now extinct, of philosophical16 practitioners105, who, loving their art with a fanatical love, exercised it with enthusiasm and wisdom. Everyone in his hospital trembled when he was angry; and his students so revered106 him that they tried, as soon as they were themselves in practice, to imitate him as much as possible. So that in all the towns about they were found wearing his long wadded merino overcoat and black frock-coat, whose buttoned cuffs107 slightly covered his brawny108 hands — very beautiful hands, and that never knew gloves, as though to be more ready to plunge54 into suffering. Disdainful of honours, of titles, and of academies, like one of the old Knight-Hospitallers, generous, fatherly to the poor, and practising virtue109 without believing in it, he would almost have passed for a saint if the keenness of his intellect had not caused him to be feared as a demon110. His glance, more penetrating than his bistouries, looked straight into your soul, and dissected111 every lie athwart all assertions and all reticences. And thus he went along, full of that debonair112 majesty113 that is given by the consciousness of great talent, of fortune, and of forty years of a labourious and irreproachable114 life.
He frowned as soon as he had passed the door when he saw the cadaverous face of Emma stretched out on her back with her mouth open. Then, while apparently115 listening to Canivet, he rubbed his fingers up and down beneath his nostrils116, and repeated —
“Good! good!”
But he made a slow gesture with his shoulders. Bovary watched him; they looked at one another; and this man, accustomed as he was to the sight of pain, could not keep back a tear that fell on his shirt-frill.
He tried to take Canivet into the next room. Charles followed him.
“She is very ill, isn’t she? If we put on sinapisms? Anything! Oh, think of something, you who have saved so many!”
Charles caught him in both his arms, and gazed at him wildly, imploringly118, half-fainting against his breast.
“Come, my poor fellow, courage! There is nothing more to be done.”
And Doctor Lariviere turned away.
“You are going?”
“I will come back.”
He went out only to give an order to the coachman, with Monsieur Canivet, who did not care either to have Emma die under his hands.
The chemist rejoined them on the Place. He could not by temperament119 keep away from celebrities120, so he begged Monsieur Lariviere to do him the signal honour of accepting some breakfast.
He sent quickly to the “Lion d’Or” for some pigeons; to the butcher’s for all the cutlets that were to be had; to Tuvache for cream; and to Lestiboudois for eggs; and the druggist himself aided in the preparations, while Madame Homais was saying as she pulled together the strings121 of her jacket —
“You must excuse us, sir, for in this poor place, when one hasn’t been told the night before —”
“Wine glasses!” whispered Homais.
“If only we were in town, we could fall back upon stuffed trotters.”
“Be quiet! Sit down, doctor!”
He thought fit, after the first few mouthfuls, to give some details as to the catastrophe122.
“We first had a feeling of siccity in the pharynx, then intolerable pains at the epigastrium, super purgation, coma123.”
“But how did she poison herself?”
“I don’t know, doctor, and I don’t even know where she can have procured124 the arsenious acid.”
Justin, who was just bringing in a pile of plates, began to tremble.
“What’s the matter?” said the chemist.
At this question the young man dropped the whole lot on the ground with a crash.
“Imbecile!” cried Homais. “awkward lout125! block-head! confounded ass5!”
But suddenly controlling himself —
“I wished, doctor, to make an analysis, and primo I delicately introduced a tube —”
“You would have done better,” said the physician, “to introduce your fingers into her throat.”
His colleague was silent, having just before privately126 received a severe lecture about his emetic, so that this good Canivet, so arrogant127 and so verbose128 at the time of the clubfoot, was to-day very modest. He smiled without ceasing in an approving manner.
Homais dilated in Amphytrionic pride, and the affecting thought of Bovary vaguely contributed to his pleasure by a kind of egotistic reflex upon himself. Then the presence of the doctor transported him. He displayed his erudition, cited pell-mell cantharides, upas, the manchineel, vipers129.
“I have even read that various persons have found themselves under toxicological symptoms, and, as it were, thunderstricken by black-pudding that had been subjected to a too vehement130 fumigation131. At least, this was stated in a very fine report drawn up by one of our pharmaceutical132 chiefs, one of our masters, the illustrious Cadet de Gassicourt!”
Madame Homais reappeared, carrying one of those shaky machines that are heated with spirits of wine; for Homais liked to make his coffee at table, having, moreover, torrefied it, pulverised it, and mixed it himself.
“Saccharum, doctor?” said he, offering the sugar.
Then he had all his children brought down, anxious to have the physician’s opinion on their constitutions.
At last Monsieur Lariviere was about to leave, when Madame Homais asked for a consultation133 about her husband. He was making his blood too thick by going to sleep every evening after dinner.
“Oh, it isn’t his blood that’s too thick,” said the physician.
And, smiling a little at his unnoticed joke, the doctor opened the door. But the chemist’s shop was full of people; he had the greatest difficulty in getting rid of Monsieur Tuvache, who feared his spouse134 would get inflammation of the lungs, because she was in the habit of spitting on the ashes; then of Monsieur Binet, who sometimes experienced sudden attacks of great hunger; and of Madame Caron, who suffered from tinglings; of Lheureux, who had vertigo135; of Lestiboudois, who had rheumatism136; and of Madame Lefrancois, who had heartburn. At last the three horses started; and it was the general opinion that he had not shown himself at all obliging.
Public attention was distracted by the appearance of Monsieur Bournisien, who was going across the market with the holy oil.
Homais, as was due to his principles, compared priests to ravens137 attracted by the odour of death. The sight of an ecclesiastic138 was personally disagreeable to him, for the cassock made him think of the shroud139, and he detested140 the one from some fear of the other.
Nevertheless, not shrinking from what he called his mission, he returned to Bovary’s in company with Canivet whom Monsieur Lariviere, before leaving, had strongly urged to make this visit; and he would, but for his wife’s objections, have taken his two sons with him, in order to accustom117 them to great occasions; that this might be a lesson, an example, a solemn picture, that should remain in their heads later on.
The room when they went in was full of mournful solemnity. On the work-table, covered over with a white cloth, there were five or six small balls of cotton in a silver dish, near a large crucifix between two lighted candles.
Emma, her chin sunken upon her breast, had her eyes inordinately141 wide open, and her poor hands wandered over the sheets with that hideous142 and soft movement of the dying, that seems as if they wanted already to cover themselves with the shroud. Pale as a statue and with eyes red as fire, Charles, not weeping, stood opposite her at the foot of the bed, while the priest, bending one knee, was muttering words in a low voice.
She turned her face slowly, and seemed filled with joy on seeing suddenly the violet stole, no doubt finding again, in the midst of a temporary lull143 in her pain, the lost voluptuousness144 of her first mystical transports, with the visions of eternal beatitude that were beginning.
The priest rose to take the crucifix; then she stretched forward her neck as one who is athirst, and glueing her lips to the body of the Man-God, she pressed upon it with all her expiring strength the fullest kiss of love that she had ever given. Then he recited the Misereatur and the Indulgentiam, dipped his right thumb in the oil, and began to give extreme unction. First upon the eyes, that had so coveted145 all worldly pomp; then upon the nostrils, that had been greedy of the warm breeze and amorous odours; then upon the mouth, that had uttered lies, that had curled with pride and cried out in lewdness146; then upon the hands that had delighted in sensual touches; and finally upon the soles of the feet, so swift of yore, when she was running to satisfy her desires, and that would now walk no more.
The cure wiped his fingers, threw the bit of cotton dipped in oil into the fire, and came and sat down by the dying woman, to tell her that she must now blend her sufferings with those of Jesus Christ and abandon herself to the divine mercy.
Finishing his exhortations147, he tried to place in her hand a blessed candle, symbol of the celestial148 glory with which she was soon to be surrounded. Emma, too weak, could not close her fingers, and the taper149, but for Monsieur Bournisien would have fallen to the ground.
However, she was not quite so pale, and her face had an expression of serenity as if the sacrament had cured her.
The priest did not fail to point this out; he even explained to Bovary that the Lord sometimes prolonged the life of persons when he thought it meet for their salvation; and Charles remembered the day when, so near death, she had received the communion. Perhaps there was no need to despair, he thought.
In fact, she looked around her slowly, as one awakening150 from a dream; then in a distinct voice she asked for her looking-glass, and remained some time bending over it, until the big tears fell from her eyes. Then she turned away her head with a sigh and fell back upon the pillows.
Her chest soon began panting rapidly; the whole of her tongue protruded151 from her mouth; her eyes, as they rolled, grew paler, like the two globes of a lamp that is going out, so that one might have thought her already dead but for the fearful labouring of her ribs152, shaken by violent breathing, as if the soul were struggling to free itself. Felicite knelt down before the crucifix, and the druggist himself slightly bent his knees, while Monsieur Canivet looked out vaguely at the Place. Bournisien had again begun to pray, his face bowed against the edge of the bed, his long black cassock trailing behind him in the room. Charles was on the other side, on his knees, his arms outstretched towards Emma. He had taken her hands and pressed them, shuddering at every beat of her heart, as at the shaking of a falling ruin. As the death-rattle became stronger the priest prayed faster; his prayers mingled153 with the stifled154 sobs of Bovary, and sometimes all seemed lost in the muffled155 murmur62 of the Latin syllables156 that tolled157 like a passing bell.
Suddenly on the pavement was heard a loud noise of clogs158 and the clattering159 of a stick; and a voice rose — a raucous160 voice — that sang —
“Maids an the warmth of a summer day Dream of love and of love always”
Emma raised herself like a galvanised corpse161, her hair undone162, her eyes fixed163, staring.
“Where the sickle164 blades have been, Nannette, gathering165 ears of corn, Passes bending down, my queen, To the earth where they were born.”
“The blind man!” she cried. And Emma began to laugh, an atrocious, frantic166, despairing laugh, thinking she saw the hideous face of the poor wretch167 that stood out against the eternal night like a menace.
“The wind is strong this summer day, Her petticoat has flown away.”
She fell back upon the mattress168 in a convulsion. They all drew near. She was dead.
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1
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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2
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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3
amorously
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| adv.好色地，妖艳地；脉；脉脉；眽眽 | |
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4
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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5
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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6
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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7
kennels
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| n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处，养狗场；狗窝( kennel的名词复数 )；养狗场 | |
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8
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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9
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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10
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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11
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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12
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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13
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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14
rupture
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| n.破裂；(关系的)决裂；v.(使)破裂 | |
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15
philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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16
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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17
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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18
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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19
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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20
seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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21
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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22
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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23
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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24
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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25
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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26
panoply
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| n.全副甲胄，礼服 | |
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27
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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28
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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29
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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30
suppliant
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| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
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31
repulses
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| v.击退( repulse的第三人称单数 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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32
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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33
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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34
facade
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| n.(建筑物的)正面，临街正面；外表 | |
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35
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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36
arteries
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| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
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37
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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38
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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39
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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40
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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41
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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42
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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43
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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44
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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45
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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46
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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47
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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48
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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49
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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50
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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51
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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52
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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53
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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54
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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55
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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56
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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57
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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58
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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59
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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60
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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61
vomit
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| v.呕吐，作呕；n.呕吐物，吐出物 | |
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62
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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63
vomiting
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| 吐 | |
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64
sediment
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| n.沉淀，沉渣，沉积(物) | |
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65
porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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66
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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67
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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68
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
oozed
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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70
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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71
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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72
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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73
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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75
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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76
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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77
foundered
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| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
antidote
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| n.解毒药，解毒剂 | |
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79
arsenic
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| n.砒霜，砷；adj.砷的 | |
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80
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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81
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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82
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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83
intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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84
calamities
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| n.灾祸，灾难( calamity的名词复数 )；不幸之事 | |
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85
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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86
recoiling
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| v.畏缩( recoil的现在分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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87
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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88
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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89
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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90
respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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91
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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92
emetic
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| n.催吐剂；adj.催吐的 | |
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93
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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95
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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96
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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97
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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98
purged
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| 清除（政敌等）( purge的过去式和过去分词 )； 涤除（罪恶等）； 净化（心灵、风气等）； 消除（错事等）的不良影响 | |
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99
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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100
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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101
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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102
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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103
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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104
begotten
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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105
practitioners
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| n.习艺者，实习者( practitioner的名词复数 )；从业者（尤指医师） | |
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106
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
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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108
brawny
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| adj.强壮的 | |
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109
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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110
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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111
dissected
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| adj.切开的，分割的，（叶子）多裂的v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的过去式和过去分词 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
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112
debonair
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| adj.殷勤的，快乐的 | |
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113
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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114
irreproachable
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| adj.不可指责的，无过失的 | |
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115
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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116
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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117
accustom
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| vt.使适应，使习惯 | |
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118
imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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119
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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120
celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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121
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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122
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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123
coma
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| n.昏迷，昏迷状态 | |
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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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125
lout
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| n.粗鄙的人；举止粗鲁的人 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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verbose
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| adj.用字多的；冗长的；累赘的 | |
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129
vipers
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| n.蝰蛇( viper的名词复数 )；毒蛇；阴险恶毒的人；奸诈者 | |
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vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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fumigation
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| n.烟熏，熏蒸；忿恨 | |
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pharmaceutical
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| adj.药学的，药物的；药用的，药剂师的 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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134
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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135
vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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136
rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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137
ravens
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| n.低质煤；渡鸦( raven的名词复数 ) | |
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ecclesiastic
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| n.教士，基督教会；adj.神职者的，牧师的，教会的 | |
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139
shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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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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inordinately
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| adv.无度地，非常地 | |
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142
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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143
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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voluptuousness
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| n.风骚，体态丰满 | |
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coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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146
lewdness
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| n. 淫荡, 邪恶 | |
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147
exhortations
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| n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 )；极力推荐；（正式的）演讲；（宗教仪式中的）劝诫 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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149
taper
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| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
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150
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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153
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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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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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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156
syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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tolled
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| 鸣钟（toll的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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158
clogs
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| 木屐； 木底鞋，木屐( clog的名词复数 ) | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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161
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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162
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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164
sickle
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| n.镰刀 | |
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165
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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166
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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167
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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168
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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