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at least the chance of some event。 One adventure sometimes
brought with it infinite consequences and the scene changed。 But
nothing happened to her； God had willed it so！ The future was a
dark corridor； with its door at the end shut fast。
She gave up music。 What was the good of playing？ Who would hear
her？ Since she could never； in a velvet gown with short sleeves；
striking with her light fingers the ivory keys of an Erard at a
concert； feel the murmur of ecstasy envelop her like a breeze； it
was not worth while boring herself with practicing。 Her drawing
cardboard and her embroidery she left in the cupboard。 What was
the good？ What was the good？ Sewing irritated her。 〃I have read
everything；〃 she said to herself。 And she sat there making the
tongs red…hot； or looked at the rain falling。
How sad she was on Sundays when vespers sounded！ She listened
with dull attention to each stroke of the cracked bell。 A cat
slowly walking over some roof put up his back in the pale rays of
the sum。 The wind on the highroad blew up clouds of dust。 Afar
off a dog sometimes howled； and the bell； keeping time； continued
its monotonous ringing that died away over the fields。
But the people came out from church。 The women in waxed clogs；
the peasants in new blouses； the little bare…headed children
skipping along in front of them； all were going home。 And till
nightfall； five or six men； always the same； stayed playing at
corks in front of the large door of the inn。
The winter was severe。 The windows every morning were covered
with rime； and the light shining through them； dim as through
ground…glass； sometimes did not change the whole day long。 At
four o'clock the lamp had to be lighted。
On fine days she went down into the garden。 The dew had left on
the cabbages a silver lace with long transparent threads
spreading from one to the other。 No birds were to be heard；
everything seemed asleep； the espalier covered with straw； and
the vine； like a great sick serpent under the coping of the wall；
along which； on drawing hear； one saw the many…footed woodlice
crawling。 Under the spruce by the hedgerow； the curie in the
three…cornered hat reading his breviary had lost his right foot；
and the very plaster； scaling off with the frost； had left white
scabs on his face。
Then she went up again； shut her door； put on coals； and fainting
with the heat of the hearth； felt her boredom weigh more heavily
than ever。 She would have like to go down and talk to the
servant； but a sense of shame restrained her。
Every day at the same time the schoolmaster in a black skullcap
opened the shutters of his house； and the rural policeman；
wearing his sabre over his blouse； passed by。 Night and morning
the post…horses； three by three； crossed the street to water at
the pond。 From time to time the bell of a public house door rang；
and when it was windy one could hear the little brass basins that
served as signs for the hairdresser's shop creaking on their two
rods。 This shop had as decoration an old engraving of a
fashion…plate stuck against a windowpane and the wax bust of a
woman with yellow hair。 He； too； the hairdresser； lamented his
wasted calling； his hopeless future； and dreaming of some shop in
a big townat Rouen； for example； overlooking the harbour； near
the theatrehe walked up and down all day from the mairie to the
church； sombre and waiting for customers。 When Madame Bovary
looked up； she always saw him there； like a sentinel on duty；
with his skullcap over his ears and his vest of lasting。
Sometimes in the afternoon outside the window of her room； the
head of a man appeared； a swarthy head with black whiskers；
smiling slowly； with a broad； gentle smile that showed his white
teeth。 A waltz immediately began and on the organ； in a little
drawing room； dancers the size of a finger； women in pink
turbans； Tyrolians in jackets； monkeys in frock coats； gentlemen
in knee…breeches； turned and turned between the sofas； the
consoles； multiplied in the bits of looking glass held together
at their corners by a piece of gold paper。 The man turned his
handle； looking to the right and left； and up at the windows。 Now
and again； while he shot out a long squirt of brown saliva
against the milestone； with his knee raised his instrument； whose
hard straps tired his shoulder； and now； doleful and drawling； or
gay and hurried； the music escaped from the box； droning through
a curtain of pink taffeta under a brass claw in arabesque。 They
were airs played in other places at the theatres； sung in drawing
rooms； danced to at night under lighted lustres； echoes of the
world that reached even to Emma。 Endless sarabands ran through
her head； and； like an Indian dancing girl on the flowers of a
carpet； her thoughts leapt with the notes； swung from dream to
dream； from sadness to sadness。 When the man had caught some
coppers in his cap； he drew down an old cover of blue cloth；
hitched his organ on to his back； and went off with a heavy
tread。 She watched him going。
But it was above all the meal…times that were unbearable to her；
in this small room on the ground floor； with its smoking stove；
its creaking door； the walls that sweated； the damp flags； all
the bitterness in life seemed served up on her plate； and with
smoke of the boiled beef there rose from her secret soul whiffs
of sickliness。 Charles was a slow eater； she played with a few
nuts； or； leaning on her elbow； amused herself with drawing lines
along the oilcloth table cover with the point of her knife。
She now let everything in her household take care of itself； and
Madame Bovary senior； when she came to spend part of Lent at
Tostes； was much surprised at the change。 She who was formerly so
careful； so dainty； now passed whole days without dressing； wore
grey cotton stockings； and burnt tallow candles。 She kept saying
they must be economical since they were not rich； adding that she
was very contented； very happy； that Tostes pleased her very
much； with other speeches that closed the mouth of her
mother…in…law。 Besides； Emma no longer seemed inclined to follow
her advice； once even； Madame Bovary having thought fit to
maintain that mistresses ought to keep an eye on the religion of
their servants； she had answered with so angry a look and so cold
a smile that the good woman did not interfere again。
Emma was growing difficult； capricious。 She ordered dishes for
herself； then she did not touch them； one day drank only pure
milk； the next cups of tea by the dozen。 Often she persisted in
not going out； then； stifling； threw open the windows and put on
light dresses。 After she had well scolded her servant she gave
her presents or sent her out to see neighbours； just as she
sometimes threw beggars all the silver in her purse； although she
was by no means tender…hearted or easily accessible to the
feelings of others； like most country…bred people； who always
retain in their souls something of the horny hardness of the
paternal hands。
Towards the end of February old Rouault； in memory of his cure；
himself brought his son…in…law a superb turkey； and stayed three
days at Tostes。 Charles being with his patients； Emma kept him
company