She went on Thursdays. She got up and dressed silently, in order not to awaken¹ Charles, who would have made remarks about her getting ready too early. Next she walked up and down, went to the windows, and looked out at the Place. The early dawn was broadening between the pillars of the market, and the chemist’s shop, with the shutters² still up, showed in the pale light of the dawn the large letters of his signboard.

When the clock pointed³ to a quarter past seven, she went off to the “Lion d’Or,” whose door Artemise opened yawning. The girl then made up the coals covered by the cinders⁴, and Emma remained alone in the kitchen. Now and again she went out. Hivert was leisurely⁵ harnessing his horses, listening, moreover, to Mere⁶ Lefrancois, who, passing her head and nightcap through a grating, was charging him with commissions and giving him explanations that would have confused anyone else. Emma kept beating the soles of her boots against the pavement of the yard.

At last, when he had eaten his soup, put on his cloak, lighted his pipe, and grasped his whip, he calmly installed himself on his seat.

The “Hirondelle” started at a slow trot⁷, and for about a mile stopped here and there to pick up passengers who waited for it, standing⁸ at the border of the road, in front of their yard gates.

Those who had secured seats the evening before kept it waiting; some even were still in bed in their houses. Hivert called, shouted, swore; then he got down from his seat and went and knocked loudly at the doors. The wind blew through the cracked windows.

The four seats, however, filled up. The carriage rolled off; rows of apple-trees followed one upon another, and the road between its two long ditches, full of yellow water, rose, constantly narrowing towards the horizon.

分享到：