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his step； then in his presence the emotion subsided； and
afterwards there remained to her only an immense astonishment
that ended in sorrow。
Leon did not know that when he left her in despair she rose after
he had gone to see him in the street。 She concerned herself about
his comings and goings； she watched his face； she invented quite
a history to find an excuse for going to his room。 The chemist's
wife seemed happy to her to sleep under the same roof； and her
thoughts constantly centered upon this house； like the 〃Lion
d'Or〃 pigeons； who came there to dip their red feet and white
wings in its gutters。 But the more Emma recognised her love； the
more she crushed it down； that it might not be evident； that she
might make it less。 She would have liked Leon to guess it； and
she imagined chances； catastrophes that should facilitate this。
What restrained her was； no doubt； idleness and fear； and a sense
of shame also。 She thought she had repulsed him too much； that
the time was past； that all was lost。 Then； pride； and joy of
being able to say to herself； 〃I am virtuous；〃 and to look at
herself in the glass taking resigned poses； consoled her a little
for the sacrifice she believed she was making。
Then the lusts of the flesh； the longing for money； and the
melancholy of passion all blended themselves into one suffering；
and instead of turning her thoughts from it； she clave to it the
more； urging herself to pain； and seeking everywhere occasion for
it。 She was irritated by an ill…served dish or by a half…open
door； bewailed the velvets she had not； the happiness she had
missed； her too exalted dreams； her narrow home。
What exasperated her was that Charles did not seem to notice her
anguish。 His conviction that he was making her happy seemed to
her an imbecile insult； and his sureness on this point
ingratitude。 For whose sake； then was she virtuous？ Was it not
for him； the obstacle to all felicity； the cause of all misery；
and； as it were； the sharp clasp of that complex strap that
bucked her in on all sides。
On him alone； then； she concentrated all the various hatreds that
resulted from her boredom； and every effort to diminish only
augmented it； for this useless trouble was added to the other
reasons for despair； and contributed still more to the separation
between them。 Her own gentleness to herself made her rebel
against him。 Domestic mediocrity drove her to lewd fancies；
marriage tenderness to adulterous desires。 She would have like
Charles to beat her； that she might have a better right to hate
him； to revenge herself upon him。 She was surprised sometimes at
the atrocious conjectures that came into her thoughts； and she
had to go on smiling； to hear repeated to her at all hours that
she was happy； to pretend to be happy； to let it be believed。
Yet she had loathing of this hypocrisy。 She was seized with the
temptation to flee somewhere with Leon to try a new life； but at
once a vague chasm full of darkness opened within her soul。
〃Besides； he no longer loves me；〃 she thought。 〃What is to become
of me？ What help is to be hoped for； what consolation； what
solace？〃
She was left broken； breathless； inert； sobbing in a low voice；
with flowing tears。
〃Why don't you tell master？〃 the servant asked her when she came
in during these crises。
〃It is the nerves；〃 said Emma。 〃Do not speak to him of it； it
would worry him。〃
〃Ah！ yes；〃 Felicite went on； 〃you are just like La Guerine； Pere
Guerin's daughter； the fisherman at Pollet； that I used to know
at Dieppe before I came to you。 She was so sad； so sad； to see
her standing upright on the threshold of her house； she seemed to
you like a winding…sheet spread out before the door。 Her illness；
it appears； was a kind of fog that she had in her head； and the
doctors could not do anything； nor the priest either。 When she
was taken too bad she went off quite alone to the sea…shore； so
that the customs officer； going his rounds； often found her lying
flat on her face； crying on the shingle。 Then； after her
marriage； it went off； they say。〃
〃But with me；〃 replied Emma； 〃it was after marriage that it
began。〃
Chapter Six
One evening when the window was open； and she； sitting by it； had
been watching Lestiboudois； the beadle； trimming the box； she
suddenly heard the Angelus ringing。
It was the beginning of April； when the primroses are in bloom；
and a warm wind blows over the flower…beds newly turned； and the
gardens； like women； seem to be getting ready for the summer
fetes。 Through the bars of the arbour and away beyond； the river
seen in the fields； meandering through the grass in wandering
curves。 The evening vapours rose between the leafless poplars；
touching their outlines with a violet tint； paler and more
transparent than a subtle gauze caught athwart their branches。 In
the distance cattle moved about； neither their steps nor their
lowing could be heard； and the bell； still ringing through the
air； kept up its peaceful lamentation。
With this repeated tinkling the thoughts of the young woman lost
themselves in old memories of her youth and school…days。 She
remembered the great candlesticks that rose above the vases full
of flowers on the altar； and the tabernacle with its small
columns。 She would have liked to be once more lost in the long
line of white veils； marked off here and there by the stuff black
hoods of the good sisters bending over their prie…Dieu。 At mass
on Sundays； when she looked up； she saw the gentle face of the
Virgin amid the blue smoke of the rising incense。 Then she was
moved； she felt herself weak and quite deserted； like the down of
a bird whirled by the tempest； and it was unconsciously that she
went towards the church； included to no matter what devotions； so
that her soul was absorbed and all existence lost in it。
On the Place she met Lestivoudois on his way back； for； in order
not to shorten his day's labour； he preferred interrupting his
work； then beginning it again； so that he rang the Angelus to
suit his own convenience。 Besides； the ringing over a little
earlier warned the lads of catechism hour。
Already a few who had arrived were playing marbles on the stones
of the cemetery。 Others； astride the wall； swung their legs；
kicking with their clogs the large nettles growing between the
little enclosure and the newest graves。 This was the only green
spot。 All the rest was but stones； always covered with a fine
powder； despite the vestry…broom。
The children in list shoes ran about there as if it were an
enclosure made for them。 The shouts of their voices could be
heard through the humming of the bell。 This grew less and less
with the swinging of the great rope that； hanging from the top of
the belfry； dragged its end on the ground。 Swallows flitted to
and fro uttering little cries； cut the air with the edge of their
wings； and swiftly returned to their yellow nests under the tiles
of the coping。 At the end of the church a lamp was burning； the
wick of a night…light in a glass hung up。 Its light from a
distance looked like a white stain trembling in the oil。 A long
ray of the sun fell across the nave and seemed to darken the
lower sides and the corners。