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more vague。 Though separated from her； he had not left her； he
was there； and the walls of the house seemed to hold his shadow。
She could not detach her eyes from the carpet where he had
walked； from those empty chairs where he had sat。 The river still
flowed on； and slowly drove its ripples along the slippery banks。
They had often walked there to the murmur of the waves over the
moss…covered pebbles。 How bright the sun had been！ What happy
afternoons they had seen along in the shade at the end of the
garden！ He read aloud； bareheaded； sitting on a footstool of dry
sticks； the fresh wind of the meadow set trembling the leaves of
the book and the nasturtiums of the arbour。 Ah！ he was gone； the
only charm of her life； the only possible hope of joy。 Why had
she not seized this happiness when it came to her？ Why not have
kept hold of it with both hands； with both knees； when it was
about to flee from her？ And she cursed herself for not having
loved Leon。 She thirsted for his lips。 The wish took possession
of her to run after and rejoin him； throw herself into his arms
and say to him； 〃It is I； I am yours。〃 But Emma recoiled
beforehand at the difficulties of the enterprise； and her
desires； increased by regret； became only the more acute。
Henceforth the memory of Leon was the centre of her boredom； it
burnt there more brightly than the fire travellers have left on
the snow of a Russian steppe。 She sprang towards him； she pressed
against him； she stirred carefully the dying embers； sought all
around her anything that could revive it； and the most distant
reminiscences； like the most immediate occasions； what she
experienced as well as what she imagined； her voluptuous desires
that were unsatisfied； her projects of happiness that crackled in
the wind like dead boughs； her sterile virtue； her lost hopes；
the domestic tete…a…teteshe gathered it all up； took
everything； and made it all serve as fuel for her melancholy。
The flames； however； subsided； either because the supply had
exhausted itself； or because it had been piled up too much。 Love；
little by little； was quelled by absence； regret stifled beneath
habit； and this incendiary light that had empurpled her pale sky
was overspread and faded by degrees。 In the supineness of her
conscience she even took her repugnance towards her husband for
aspirations towards her lover； the burning of hate for the warmth
of tenderness； but as the tempest still raged； and as passion
burnt itself down to the very cinders； and no help came； no sun
rose； there was night on all sides； and she was lost in the
terrible cold that pierced her。
Then the evil days of Tostes began again。 She thought herself now
far more unhappy； for she had the experience of grief； with the
certainty that it would not end。
A woman who had laid on herself such sacrifices could well allow
herself certain whims。 She bought a Gothic prie…dieu； and in a
month spent fourteen francs on lemons for polishing her nails；
she wrote to Rouen for a blue cashmere gown； she chose one of
Lheureux's finest scarves； and wore it knotted around her waist
over her dressing…gown； and； with closed blinds and a book in her
hand； she lay stretched out on a couch in this garb。
She often changed her coiffure； she did her hair a la Chinoise；
in flowing curls； in plaited coils； she parted in on one side and
rolled it under like a man's。
She wanted to learn Italian； she bought dictionaries； a grammar；
and a supply of white paper。 She tried serious reading； history；
and philosophy。 Sometimes in the night Charles woke up with a
start； thinking he was being called to a patient。 〃I'm coming；〃
he stammered； and it was the noise of a match Emma had struck to
relight the lamp。 But her reading fared like her piece of
embroidery； all of which； only just begun； filled her cupboard；
she took it up； left it； passed on to other books。
She had attacks in which she could easily have been driven to
commit any folly。 She maintained one day； in opposition to her
husband； that she could drink off a large glass of brandy； and；
as Charles was stupid enough to dare her to； she swallowed the
brandy to the last drop。
In spite of her vapourish airs （as the housewives of Yonville
called them）； Emma； all the same； never seemed gay； and usually
she had at the corners of her mouth that immobile contraction
that puckers the faces of old maids； and those of men whose
ambition has failed。 She was pale all over； white as a sheet； the
skin of her nose was drawn at the nostrils； her eyes looked at
you vaguely。 After discovering three grey hairs on her temples；
she talked much of her old age。
She often fainted。 One day she even spat blood； and； as Charles
fussed around her showing his anxiety
〃Bah！〃 she answered； 〃what does it matter？〃
Charles fled to his study and wept there； both his elbows on the
table； sitting in an arm…chair at his bureau under the
phrenological head。
Then he wrote to his mother begging her to come； and they had
many long consultations together on the subject of Emma。
What should they decide？ What was to be done since she rejected
all medical treatment？ 〃Do you know what your wife wants？〃
replied Madame Bovary senior。
〃She wants to be forced to occupy herself with some manual work。
If she were obliged； like so many others； to earn her living； she
wouldn't have these vapours； that come to her from a lot of ideas
she stuffs into her head； and from the idleness in which she
lives。
Yet she is always busy；〃 said Charles。
〃Ah！ always busy at what？ Reading novels； bad books； works
against religion； and in which they mock at priests in speeches
taken from Voltaire。 But all that leads you far astray； my poor
child。 Anyone who has no religion always ends by turning out
badly。〃
So it was decided to stop Emma reading novels。 The enterprise did
not seem easy。 The good lady undertook it。 She was； when she
passed through Rouen； to go herself to the lending…library and
represent that Emma had discontinued her subscription。 Would they
not have a right to apply to the police if the librarian
persisted all the same in his poisonous trade？ The farewells of
mother and daughter…in…law were cold。 During the three weeks that
they had been together they had not exchanged half…a…dozen words
apart from the inquiries and phrases when they met at table and
in the evening before going to bed。
Madame Bovary left on a Wednesday； the market…day at Yonville。
The Place since morning had been blocked by a row of carts；
which； on end and their shafts in the air； spread all along the
line of houses from the church to the inn。 On the other side
there were canvas booths； where cotton checks； blankets； and
woollen stockings were sold； together with harness for horses；
and packets of blue ribbon； whose ends fluttered in the wind。 The
coarse hardware was spread out on the ground between pyramids of
eggs and hampers of cheeses； from which sticky straw stuck out。
Near the corn…machines clucking hens passed their necks through
the bars of flat cages。 The people； crowding in the same place
and unwilling to move thence； sometimes threatened to smash the
shop front of the chemist。 On Wednesdays his shop w