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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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- Стр. 137/303
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He
saw
himself
dishonoured
,
ruined
,
lost
;
and
his
imagination
,
assailed
by
a
world
of
hypotheses
,
tossed
amongst
them
like
an
empty
cask
borne
by
the
sea
and
floating
upon
the
waves
.
Emma
,
opposite
,
watched
him
;
she
did
not
share
his
humiliation
;
she
felt
another
--
that
of
having
supposed
such
a
man
was
worth
anything
.
As
if
twenty
times
already
she
had
not
sufficiently
perceived
his
mediocrity
.
Charles
was
walking
up
and
down
the
room
;
his
boots
creaked
on
the
floor
.
"
Sit
down
,
"
she
said
;
"
you
fidget
me
.
"
He
sat
down
again
.
How
was
it
that
she
--
she
,
who
was
so
intelligent
--
could
have
allowed
herself
to
be
deceived
again
?
and
through
what
deplorable
madness
had
she
thus
ruined
her
life
by
continual
sacrifices
?
She
recalled
all
her
instincts
of
luxury
,
all
the
privations
of
her
soul
,
the
sordidness
of
marriage
,
of
the
household
,
her
dream
sinking
into
the
mire
like
wounded
swallows
;
all
that
she
had
longed
for
,
all
that
she
had
denied
herself
,
all
that
she
might
have
had
!
And
for
what
?
for
what
?
In
the
midst
of
the
silence
that
hung
over
the
village
a
heart-rending
cry
rose
on
the
air
.
Bovary
turned
white
to
fainting
.
She
knit
her
brows
with
a
nervous
gesture
,
then
went
on
.
And
it
was
for
him
,
for
this
creature
,
for
this
man
,
who
understood
nothing
,
who
felt
nothing
!
For
he
was
there
quite
quiet
,
not
even
suspecting
that
the
ridicule
of
his
name
would
henceforth
sully
hers
as
well
as
his
.
She
had
made
efforts
to
love
him
,
and
she
had
repented
with
tears
for
having
yielded
to
another
!
"
But
it
was
perhaps
a
valgus
!
"
suddenly
exclaimed
Bovary
,
who
was
meditating
.
At
the
unexpected
shock
of
this
phrase
falling
on
her
thought
like
a
leaden
bullet
on
a
silver
plate
,
Emma
,
shuddering
,
raised
her
head
in
order
to
find
out
what
he
meant
to
say
;
and
they
looked
at
the
other
in
silence
,
almost
amazed
to
see
each
other
,
so
far
sundered
were
they
by
their
inner
thoughts
.
Charles
gazed
at
her
with
the
dull
look
of
a
drunken
man
,
while
he
listened
motionless
to
the
last
cries
of
the
sufferer
,
that
followed
each
other
in
long-drawn
modulations
,
broken
by
sharp
spasms
like
the
far-off
howling
of
some
beast
being
slaughtered
.
Emma
bit
her
wan
lips
,
and
rolling
between
her
fingers
a
piece
of
coral
that
she
had
broken
,
fixed
on
Charles
the
burning
glance
of
her
eyes
like
two
arrows
of
fire
about
to
dart
forth
.
Everything
in
him
irritated
her
now
;
his
face
,
his
dress
,
what
he
did
not
say
,
his
whole
person
,
his
existence
,
in
fine
.
She
repented
of
her
past
virtue
as
of
a
crime
,
and
what
still
remained
of
it
rumbled
away
beneath
the
furious
blows
of
her
pride
.
She
revelled
in
all
the
evil
ironies
of
triumphant
adultery
.
The
memory
of
her
lover
came
back
to
her
with
dazzling
attractions
;
she
threw
her
whole
soul
into
it
,
borne
away
towards
this
image
with
a
fresh
enthusiasm
;
and
Charles
seemed
to
her
as
much
removed
from
her
life
,
as
absent
forever
,
as
impossible
and
annihilated
,
as
if
he
had
been
about
to
die
and
were
passing
under
her
eyes
