第16章
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  AtlastEmmarememberedthatatthechateauofVaubyessardshehadheardtheMarchionesscallayoungladyBerthe;fromthatmomentthisnamewaschosen;andasoldRouaultcouldnotcome,MonsieurHomaiswasrequestedtostandgodfather。Hisgiftswereallproductsfromhisestablishment,towit:sixboxesofjujubes,awholejarofracahout,threecakesofmarshmallowpaste,andsixsticksofsugar-candyintothebargainthathehadcomeacrossinacupboard。Ontheeveningoftheceremonytherewasagranddinner;thecurewaspresent;therewasmuchexcitement。MonsieurHomaistowardsliqueur-timebegansinging“LeDieudesbonnesgens。“MonsieurLeonsangabarcarolle,andMadameBovary,senior,whowasgodmother,aromanceofthetimeoftheEmpire;finally,M。Bovary,senior,insistedonhavingthechildbroughtdown,andbeganbaptizingitwithaglassofchampagnethathepouredoveritshead。ThismockeryofthefirstofthesacramentsmadetheAbbeBournisienangry;oldBovaryrepliedbyaquotationfrom“LaGuerredesDieux“;thecurewantedtoleave;theladiesimplored,Homaisinterfered;andtheysucceededinmakingthepriestsitdownagain,andhequietlywentonwiththehalf-finishedcoffeeinhissaucer。

  MonsieurBovary,senior,stayedatYonvilleamonth,dazzlingthenativebyasuperbpoliceman’scapwithsilvertasselsthatheworeinthemorningwhenhesmokedhispipeinthesquare。Beingalsointhehabitofdrinkingagooddealofbrandy,heoftensenttheservanttotheLiond’Ortobuyhimabottle,whichwasputdowntohisson’saccount,andtoperfumehishandkerchiefsheuseduphisdaughter-in-law’swholesupplyofeau-de-cologne。

  Thelatterdidnotatalldislikehiscompany。Hehadknockedabouttheworld,hetalkedaboutBerlin,Vienna,andStrasbourg,ofhissoldiertimes,ofthemistresseshehadhad,thegrandluncheonsofwhichhehadpartaken;thenhewasamiable,andsometimeseven,eitheronthestairs,orinthegarden,wouldseizeholdofherwaist,crying,“Charles,lookoutforyourself。“

  ThenMadameBovary,senior,becamealarmedforherson’shappiness,andfearingthatherhusbandmightinthelong-runhaveanimmoralinfluenceupontheideasoftheyoungwoman,tookcaretohurrytheirdeparture。Perhapsshehadmoreseriousreasonsforuneasiness。MonsieurBovarywasnotthemantorespectanything。

  OnedayEmmawassuddenlyseizedwiththedesiretoseeherlittlegirl,whohadbeenputtonursewiththecarpenter’swife,and,withoutlookingatthecalendartoseewhetherthesixweeksoftheVirginwereyetpassed,shesetoutfortheRollets’

  house,situatedattheextremeendofthevillage,betweenthehighroadandthefields。

  Itwasmid-day,theshuttersofthehouseswereclosedandtheslateroofsthatglitteredbeneaththefiercelightoftheblueskyseemedtostrikesparksfromthecrestofthegables。Aheavywindwasblowing;Emmafeltweakasshewalked;thestonesofthepavementhurther;shewasdoubtfulwhethershewouldnotgohomeagain,orgoinsomewheretorest。

  AtthismomentMonsieurLeoncameoutfromaneighbouringdoorwithabundleofpapersunderhisarm。Hecametogreether,andstoodintheshadeinfrontoftheLheureux’sshopundertheprojectinggreyawning。

  MadameBovarysaidshewasgoingtoseeherbaby,butthatshewasbeginningtogrowtired。

  “If——“saidLeon,notdaringtogoon。

  “Haveyouanybusinesstoattendto?“sheasked。

  Andontheclerk’sanswer,shebeggedhimtoaccompanyher。ThatsameeveningthiswasknowninYonville,andMadameTuvache,themayor’swife,declaredinthepresenceofherservantthat“MadameBovarywascompromisingherself。“

  Togettothenurse’sitwasnecessarytoturntotheleftonleavingthestreet,asifmakingforthecemetery,andtofollowbetweenlittlehousesandyardsasmallpathborderedwithprivethedges。Theywereinbloom,andsowerethespeedwells,eglantines,thistles,andthesweetbriarthatsprangupfromthethickets。Throughopeningsinthehedgesonecouldseeintothehuts,somepigsonadung-heap,ortetheredcowsrubbingtheirhornsagainstthetrunkoftrees。Thetwo,sidebysidewalkedslowly,sheleaninguponhim,andherestraininghispace,whichheregulatedbyhers;infrontofthemaswarmofmidgesfluttered,buzzinginthewarmair。

  Therecognizedthehousebyanoldwalnut-treewhichshadedit。

  Lowandcoveredwithbrowntiles,therehungoutsideit,beneaththedormer-windowofthegarret,astringofonions。Faggotsuprightagainstathornfencesurroundedabedoflettuce,afewsquarefeetoflavender,andsweetpeasstungonsticks。Dirtywaterwasrunninghereandthereonthegrass,andallroundwereseveralindefiniterags,knittedstockings,aredcalicojacket,andalargesheetofcoarselinenspreadoverthehedge。Atthenoiseofthegatethenurseappearedwithababyshewassucklingononearm。Withherotherhandshewaspullingalongapoorpunylittlefellow,hisfacecoveredwithscrofula,thesonofaRouenhosier,whomhisparents,tootakenupwiththeirbusiness,leftinthecountry。

  “Goin,“shesaid;“yourlittleoneisthereasleep。“

  Theroomontheground-floor,theonlyoneinthedwelling,hadatitsfartherend,againstthewall,alargebedwithoutcurtains,whileakneading-troughtookupthesidebythewindow,onepaneofwhichwasmendedwithapieceofbluepaper。Inthecornerbehindthedoor,shininghob-nailedshoesstoodinarowundertheslabofthewashstand,nearabottleofoilwithafeatherstuckinitsmouth;aMatthieuLaensberglayonthedustymantelpieceamidgunflints,candle-ends,andbitsofamadou。

  Finally,thelastluxuryintheapartmentwasa“Fame“blowinghertrumpets,apicturecutout,nodoubt,fromsomeperfumer’sprospectusandnailedtothewallwithsixwoodenshoe-pegs。

  Emma’schildwasasleepinawicker-cradle。Shetookitupinthewrappingthatenvelopeditandbegansingingsoftlyassherockedherselftoandfro。

  Leonwalkedupanddowntheroom;itseemedstrangetohimtoseethisbeautifulwomaninhernankeendressinthemidstofallthispoverty。MadamBovaryreddened;heturnedaway,thinkingperhapstherehadbeenanimpertinentlookinhiseyes。Thensheputbackthelittlegirl,whohadjustbeensickoverhercollar。

  Thenurseatoncecametodryher,protestingthatitwouldn’tshow。

  “Shegivesmeotherdoses,“shesaid:“Iamalwaysa-washingofher。IfyouwouldhavethegoodnesstoorderCamus,thegrocer,toletmehavealittlesoap,itwouldreallybemoreconvenientforyou,asIneedn’ttroubleyouthen。“

  “Verywell!verywell!“saidEmma。“Goodmorning,MadameRollet,“

  andshewentout,wipinghershoesatthedoor。

  Thegoodwomanaccompaniedhertotheendofthegarden,talkingallthetimeofthetroubleshehadgettingupofnights。

  “I’mthatwornoutsometimesasIdropasleeponmychair。I’msureyoumightatleastgivemejustapoundofgroundcoffee;

  that’dlastmeamonth,andI’dtakeitofamorningwithsomemilk。“

  Afterhavingsubmittedtoherthanks,MadamBovaryleft。Shehadgonealittlewaydownthepathwhen,atthesoundofwoodenshoes,sheturnedround。Itwasthenurse。

  “Whatisit?“

  Thenthepeasantwoman,takingherasidebehindanelmtree,begantalkingtoherofherhusband,whowithhistradeandsixfrancsayearthatthecaptain——

  “Oh,bequick!“saidEmma。

  “Well,“thenursewenton,heavingsighsbetweeneachword,“I’mafraidhe’llbeputoutseeingmehavecoffeealong,youknowmen——“

  “Butyouaretohavesome,“Emmarepeated;“Iwillgiveyousome。

  Youbotherme!“

  “Oh,dear!mypoor,dearlady!youseeinconsequenceofhiswoundshehasterriblecrampsinthechest。Heevensaysthatciderweakenshim。“

  “Domakehaste,MereRollet!“

  “Well,“thelattercontinued,makingacurtsey,“ifitweren’taskingtoomuch,“andshecurtsiedoncemore,“ifyouwould“——andhereyesbegged——“ajarofbrandy,“shesaidatlast,“andI’drubyourlittleone’sfeetwithit;they’reastenderasone’stongue。“

  Onceridofthenurse,EmmaagaintookMonsieurLeon’sarm。Shewalkedfastforsometime,thenmoreslowly,andlookingstraightinfrontofher,hereyesrestedontheshoulderoftheyoungman,whosefrock-coathadablack-velvetycollar。Hisbrownhairfelloverit,straightandcarefullyarranged。ShenoticedhisnailswhichwerelongerthanoneworethematYonville。Itwasoneoftheclerk’schiefoccupationstotrimthem,andforthispurposehekeptaspecialknifeinhiswritingdesk。

  TheyreturnedtoYonvillebythewater-side。Inthewarmseasonthebank,widerthanatothertimes,showedtotheirfootthegardenwallswhenceafewstepsledtotheriver。Itflowednoiselessly,swift,andcoldtotheeye;long,thingrasseshuddledtogetherinitasthecurrentdrovethem,andspreadthemselvesuponthelimpidwaterlikestreaminghair;sometimesatthetipofthereedsorontheleafofawater-lilyaninsectwithfinelegscrawledorrested。Thesunpiercedwitharaythesmallbluebubblesofthewavesthat,breaking,followedeachother;branchlessoldwillowsmirroredtheirgreybacksinthewater;beyond,allaround,themeadowsseemedempty。Itwasthedinner-houratthefarms,andtheyoungwomanandhercompanionheardnothingastheywalkedbutthefalloftheirstepsontheearthofthepath,thewordstheyspoke,andthesoundofEmma’sdressrustlingroundher。

  Thewallsofthegardenswithpiecesofbottleontheircopingwerehotastheglasswindowsofaconservatory。Wallflowershadsprungupbetweenthebricks,andwiththetipofheropensunshadeMadameBovary,asshepassed,madesomeoftheirfadedflowerscrumbleintoayellowdust,orasprayofoverhanginghoneysuckleandclematiscaughtinitsfringeanddangledforamomentoverthesilk。

  TheyweretalkingofatroupeofSpanishdancerswhowereexpectedshortlyattheRouentheatre。

  “Areyougoing?“sheasked。

  “IfIcan,“heanswered。

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