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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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- Стр. 12/303
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One
day
he
got
there
about
three
o'clock
.
Everybody
was
in
the
fields
.
He
went
into
the
kitchen
,
but
did
not
at
once
catch
sight
of
Emma
;
the
outside
shutters
were
closed
.
Through
the
chinks
of
the
wood
the
sun
sent
across
the
flooring
long
fine
rays
that
were
broken
at
the
corners
of
the
furniture
and
trembled
along
the
ceiling
.
Some
flies
on
the
table
were
crawling
up
the
glasses
that
had
been
used
,
and
buzzing
as
they
drowned
themselves
in
the
dregs
of
the
cider
.
The
daylight
that
came
in
by
the
chimney
made
velvet
of
the
soot
at
the
back
of
the
fireplace
,
and
touched
with
blue
the
cold
cinders
.
Between
the
window
and
the
hearth
Emma
was
sewing
;
she
wore
no
fichu
;
he
could
see
small
drops
of
perspiration
on
her
bare
shoulders
.
After
the
fashion
of
country
folks
she
asked
him
to
have
something
to
drink
.
He
said
no
;
she
insisted
,
and
at
last
laughingly
offered
to
have
a
glass
of
liqueur
with
him
.
So
she
went
to
fetch
a
bottle
of
curacao
from
the
cupboard
,
reached
down
two
small
glasses
,
filled
one
to
the
brim
,
poured
scarcely
anything
into
the
other
,
and
,
after
having
clinked
glasses
,
carried
hers
to
her
mouth
.
As
it
was
almost
empty
she
bent
back
to
drink
,
her
head
thrown
back
,
her
lips
pouting
,
her
neck
on
the
strain
.
She
laughed
at
getting
none
of
it
,
while
with
the
tip
of
her
tongue
passing
between
her
small
teeth
she
licked
drop
by
drop
the
bottom
of
her
glass
.
She
sat
down
again
and
took
up
her
work
,
a
white
cotton
stocking
she
was
darning
.
She
worked
with
her
head
bent
down
;
she
did
not
speak
,
nor
did
Charles
.
The
air
coming
in
under
the
door
blew
a
little
dust
over
the
flags
;
he
watched
it
drift
along
,
and
heard
nothing
but
the
throbbing
in
his
head
and
the
faint
clucking
of
a
hen
that
had
laid
an
egg
in
the
yard
.
Emma
from
time
to
time
cooled
her
cheeks
with
the
palms
of
her
hands
,
and
cooled
these
again
on
the
knobs
of
the
huge
fire-dogs
.
She
complained
of
suffering
since
the
beginning
of
the
season
from
giddiness
;
she
asked
if
sea-baths
would
do
her
any
good
;
she
began
talking
of
her
convent
,
Charles
of
his
school
;
words
came
to
them
.
They
went
up
into
her
bedroom
.
She
showed
him
her
old
music-books
,
the
little
prizes
she
had
won
,
and
the
oak-leaf
crowns
,
left
at
the
bottom
of
a
cupboard
.
She
spoke
to
him
,
too
,
of
her
mother
,
of
the
country
,
and
even
showed
him
the
bed
in
the
garden
where
,
on
the
first
Friday
of
every
month
,
she
gathered
flowers
to
put
on
her
mother
's
tomb
.
But
the
gardener
they
had
never
knew
anything
about
it
;
servants
are
so
stupid
!
She
would
have
dearly
liked
,
if
only
for
the
winter
,
to
live
in
town
,
although
the
length
of
the
fine
days
made
the
country
perhaps
even
more
wearisome
in
the
summer
.
And
,
according
to
what
she
was
saying
,
her
voice
was
clear
,
sharp
,
or
,
on
a
sudden
all
languor
,
drawn
out
in
modulations
that
ended
almost
in
murmurs
as
she
spoke
to
herself
,
now
joyous
,
opening
big
naive
eyes
,
then
with
her
eyelids
half
closed
,
her
look
full
of
boredom
,
her
thoughts
wandering
.
Going
home
at
night
,
Charles
went
over
her
words
one
by
one
,
trying
to
recall
them
,
to
fill
out
their
sense
,
that
he
might
piece
out
the
life
she
had
lived
before
he
knew
her
.
But
he
never
saw
her
in
his
thoughts
other
than
he
had
seen
her
the
first
time
,
or
as
he
had
just
left
her
.
Then
he
asked
himself
what
would
become
of
her
--
if
she
would
be
married
,
and
to
whom
!
Alas
!
Old
Rouault
was
rich
,
and
she
!
--
so
beautiful
!
But
Emma
's
face
always
rose
before
his
eyes
,
and
a
monotone
,
like
the
humming
of
a
top
,
sounded
in
his
ears
,
"
If
you
should
marry
after
all
!
If
you
should
marry
!
"
At
night
he
could
not
sleep
;
his
throat
was
parched
;
he
was
athirst
.
He
got
up
to
drink
from
the
water-bottle
and
opened
the
window
.
The
night
was
covered
with
stars
,
a
warm
wind
blowing
in
the
distance
;
the
dogs
were
barking
.
He
turned
his
head
towards
the
Bertaux
.
Thinking
that
,
after
all
,
he
should
lose
nothing
,
Charles
promised
himself
to
ask
her
in
marriage
as
soon
as
occasion
offered
,
but
each
time
such
occasion
did
offer
the
fear
of
not
finding
the
right
words
sealed
his
lips
.
Old
Rouault
would
not
have
been
sorry
to
be
rid
of
his
daughter
,
who
was
of
no
use
to
him
in
the
house
.
In
his
heart
he
excused
her
,
thinking
her
too
clever
for
farming
,
a
calling
under
the
ban
of
Heaven
,
since
one
never
saw
a
millionaire
in
it
.
Far
from
having
made
a
fortune
by
it
,
the
good
man
was
losing
every
year
;
for
if
he
was
good
in
bargaining
,
in
which
he
enjoyed
the
dodges
of
the
trade
,
on
the
other
hand
,
agriculture
properly
so
called
,
and
the
internal
management
of
the
farm
,
suited
him
less
than
most
people
.
He
did
not
willingly
take
his
hands
out
of
his
pockets
,
and
did
not
spare
expense
in
all
that
concerned
himself
,
liking
to
eat
well
,
to
have
good
fires
,
and
to
sleep
well
.
He
liked
old
cider
,
underdone
legs
of
mutton
,
glorias
well
beaten
up
.
He
took
his
meals
in
the
kitchen
alone
,
opposite
the
fire
,
on
a
little
table
brought
to
him
all
ready
laid
as
on
the
stage
.
