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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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- Стр. 11/303
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Why
did
he
always
offer
a
glass
of
something
to
everyone
who
came
?
What
obstinacy
not
to
wear
flannels
!
In
the
spring
it
came
about
that
a
notary
at
Ingouville
,
the
holder
of
the
widow
Dubuc
's
property
,
one
fine
day
went
off
,
taking
with
him
all
the
money
in
his
office
.
Heloise
,
it
is
true
,
still
possessed
,
besides
a
share
in
a
boat
valued
at
six
thousand
francs
,
her
house
in
the
Rue
St.
Francois
;
and
yet
,
with
all
this
fortune
that
had
been
so
trumpeted
abroad
,
nothing
,
excepting
perhaps
a
little
furniture
and
a
few
clothes
,
had
appeared
in
the
household
.
The
matter
had
to
be
gone
into
The
house
at
Dieppe
was
found
to
be
eaten
up
with
mortgages
to
its
foundations
;
what
she
had
placed
with
the
notary
God
only
knew
,
and
her
share
in
the
boat
did
not
exceed
one
thousand
crowns
.
She
had
lied
,
the
good
lady
!
In
his
exasperation
,
Monsieur
Bovary
the
elder
,
smashing
a
chair
on
the
flags
,
accused
his
wife
of
having
caused
misfortune
to
the
son
by
harnessing
him
to
such
a
harridan
,
whose
harness
was
n't
worth
her
hide
.
They
came
to
Tostes
.
Explanations
followed
.
There
were
scenes
.
Heloise
in
tears
,
throwing
her
arms
about
her
husband
,
implored
him
to
defend
her
from
his
parents
.
Charles
tried
to
speak
up
for
her
.
They
grew
angry
and
left
the
house
.
But
"
the
blow
had
struck
home
.
"
A
week
after
,
as
she
was
hanging
up
some
washing
in
her
yard
,
she
was
seized
with
a
spitting
of
blood
,
and
the
next
day
,
while
Charles
had
his
back
turned
to
her
drawing
the
window-curtain
,
she
said
,
"
O
God
!
"
gave
a
sigh
and
fainted
.
She
was
dead
!
What
a
surprise
!
When
all
was
over
at
the
cemetery
Charles
went
home
.
He
found
no
one
downstairs
;
he
went
up
to
the
first
floor
to
their
room
;
say
her
dress
still
hanging
at
the
foot
of
the
alcove
;
then
,
leaning
against
the
writing-table
,
he
stayed
until
the
evening
,
buried
in
a
sorrowful
reverie
.
She
had
loved
him
after
all
!
One
morning
old
Rouault
brought
Charles
the
money
for
setting
his
leg
--
seventy-five
francs
in
forty-sou
pieces
,
and
a
turkey
.
He
had
heard
of
his
loss
,
and
consoled
him
as
well
as
he
could
.
"
I
know
what
it
is
,
"
said
he
,
clapping
him
on
the
shoulder
;
"
I
've
been
through
it
.
When
I
lost
my
dear
departed
,
I
went
into
the
fields
to
be
quite
alone
.
I
fell
at
the
foot
of
a
tree
;
I
cried
;
I
called
on
God
;
I
talked
nonsense
to
Him
.
I
wanted
to
be
like
the
moles
that
I
saw
on
the
branches
,
their
insides
swarming
with
worms
,
dead
,
and
an
end
of
it
.
And
when
I
thought
that
there
were
others
at
that
very
moment
with
their
nice
little
wives
holding
them
in
their
embrace
,
I
struck
great
blows
on
the
earth
with
my
stick
.
I
was
pretty
well
mad
with
not
eating
;
the
very
idea
of
going
to
a
cafe
disgusted
me
--
you
would
n't
believe
it
.
Well
,
quite
softly
,
one
day
following
another
,
a
spring
on
a
winter
,
and
an
autumn
after
a
summer
,
this
wore
away
,
piece
by
piece
,
crumb
by
crumb
;
it
passed
away
,
it
is
gone
,
I
should
say
it
has
sunk
;
for
something
always
remains
at
the
bottom
as
one
would
say
--
a
weight
here
,
at
one
's
heart
.
But
since
it
is
the
lot
of
all
of
us
,
one
must
not
give
way
altogether
,
and
,
because
others
have
died
,
want
to
die
too
.
You
must
pull
yourself
together
,
Monsieur
Bovary
.
It
will
pass
away
.
Come
to
see
us
;
my
daughter
thinks
of
you
now
and
again
,
d'ye
know
,
and
she
says
you
are
forgetting
her
.
Spring
will
soon
be
here
.
We
'll
have
some
rabbit-shooting
in
the
warrens
to
amuse
you
a
bit
.
"
Charles
followed
his
advice
.
He
went
back
to
the
Bertaux
.
He
found
all
as
he
had
left
it
,
that
is
to
say
,
as
it
was
five
months
ago
.
The
pear
trees
were
already
in
blossom
,
and
Farmer
Rouault
,
on
his
legs
again
,
came
and
went
,
making
the
farm
more
full
of
life
.
Thinking
it
his
duty
to
heap
the
greatest
attention
upon
the
doctor
because
of
his
sad
position
,
he
begged
him
not
to
take
his
hat
off
,
spoke
to
him
in
an
undertone
as
if
he
had
been
ill
,
and
even
pretended
to
be
angry
because
nothing
rather
lighter
had
been
prepared
for
him
than
for
the
others
,
such
as
a
little
clotted
cream
or
stewed
pears
.
He
told
stories
.
Charles
found
himself
laughing
,
but
the
remembrance
of
his
wife
suddenly
coming
back
to
him
depressed
him
.
Coffee
was
brought
in
;
he
thought
no
more
about
her
.
He
thought
less
of
her
as
he
grew
accustomed
to
living
alone
.
The
new
delight
of
independence
soon
made
his
loneliness
bearable
.
He
could
now
change
his
meal-times
,
go
in
or
out
without
explanation
,
and
when
he
was
very
tired
stretch
himself
at
full
length
on
his
bed
.
So
he
nursed
and
coddled
himself
and
accepted
the
consolations
that
were
offered
him
.
On
the
other
hand
,
the
death
of
his
wife
had
not
served
him
ill
in
his
business
,
since
for
a
month
people
had
been
saying
,
"
The
poor
young
man
!
what
a
loss
!
"
His
name
had
been
talked
about
,
his
practice
had
increased
;
and
moreover
,
he
could
go
to
the
Bertaux
just
as
he
liked
.
He
had
an
aimless
hope
,
and
was
vaguely
happy
;
he
thought
himself
better
looking
as
he
brushed
his
whiskers
before
the
looking-glass
.
