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The
yellow
curtains
along
the
windows
let
a
heavy
,
whitish
light
enter
softly
.
Emma
felt
about
,
opening
and
closing
her
eyes
,
while
the
drops
of
dew
hanging
from
her
hair
formed
,
as
it
were
,
a
topaz
aureole
around
her
face
.
Rodolphe
,
laughing
,
drew
her
to
him
,
and
pressed
her
to
his
breast
.
Then
she
examined
the
apartment
,
opened
the
drawers
of
the
tables
,
combed
her
hair
with
his
comb
,
and
looked
at
herself
in
his
shaving-glass
Often
she
even
put
between
her
teeth
the
big
pipe
that
lay
on
the
table
by
the
bed
,
amongst
lemons
and
pieces
of
sugar
near
a
bottle
of
water
.
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It
took
them
a
good
quarter
of
an
hour
to
say
goodbye
.
Then
Emma
cried
.
She
would
have
wished
never
to
leave
Rodolphe
.
Something
stronger
than
herself
forced
her
to
him
;
so
much
so
,
that
one
day
,
seeing
her
come
unexpectedly
,
he
frowned
as
one
put
out
.
"
What
is
the
matter
with
you
?
"
she
said
.
"
Are
you
ill
?
Tell
me
!
"
At
last
he
declared
with
a
serious
air
that
her
visits
were
becoming
imprudent
--
that
she
was
compromising
herself
.
Gradually
Rodolphe
's
fears
took
possession
of
her
.
At
first
,
love
had
intoxicated
her
;
and
she
had
thought
of
nothing
beyond
.
But
now
that
he
was
indispensable
to
her
life
,
she
feared
to
lose
anything
of
this
,
or
even
that
it
should
be
disturbed
.
When
she
came
back
from
his
house
she
looked
all
about
her
,
anxiously
watching
every
form
that
passed
in
the
horizon
,
and
every
village
window
from
which
she
could
be
seen
.
She
listened
for
steps
,
cries
,
the
noise
of
the
ploughs
,
and
she
stopped
short
,
white
,
and
trembling
more
than
the
aspen
leaves
swaying
overhead
.
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One
morning
as
she
was
thus
returning
,
she
suddenly
thought
she
saw
the
long
barrel
of
a
carbine
that
seemed
to
be
aimed
at
her
.
It
stuck
out
sideways
from
the
end
of
a
small
tub
half-buried
in
the
grass
on
the
edge
of
a
ditch
.
Emma
,
half-fainting
with
terror
,
nevertheless
walked
on
,
and
a
man
stepped
out
of
the
tub
like
a
Jack-in-the-box
.
He
had
gaiters
buckled
up
to
the
knees
,
his
cap
pulled
down
over
his
eyes
,
trembling
lips
,
and
a
red
nose
.
It
was
Captain
Binet
lying
in
ambush
for
wild
ducks
.
"
You
ought
to
have
called
out
long
ago
!
"
he
exclaimed
;
"
When
one
sees
a
gun
,
one
should
always
give
warning
.
"
The
tax-collector
was
thus
trying
to
hide
the
fright
he
had
had
,
for
a
prefectorial
order
having
prohibited
duckhunting
except
in
boats
,
Monsieur
Binet
,
despite
his
respect
for
the
laws
,
was
infringing
them
,
and
so
he
every
moment
expected
to
see
the
rural
guard
turn
up
.
But
this
anxiety
whetted
his
pleasure
,
and
,
all
alone
in
his
tub
,
he
congratulated
himself
on
his
luck
and
on
his
cuteness
.