-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Гюстав Флобер
-
- Госпожа Бовари
-
- Стр. 17/303
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
garden
,
longer
than
wide
,
ran
between
two
mud
walls
with
espaliered
apricots
,
to
a
hawthorn
hedge
that
separated
it
from
the
field
.
In
the
middle
was
a
slate
sundial
on
a
brick
pedestal
;
four
flower
beds
with
eglantines
surrounded
symmetrically
the
more
useful
kitchen
garden
bed
.
Right
at
the
bottom
,
under
the
spruce
bushes
,
was
a
cure
in
plaster
reading
his
breviary
.
Emma
went
upstairs
.
The
first
room
was
not
furnished
,
but
in
the
second
,
which
was
their
bedroom
,
was
a
mahogany
bedstead
in
an
alcove
with
red
drapery
.
A
shell
box
adorned
the
chest
of
drawers
,
and
on
the
secretary
near
the
window
a
bouquet
of
orange
blossoms
tied
with
white
satin
ribbons
stood
in
a
bottle
.
It
was
a
bride
's
bouquet
;
it
was
the
other
one
's
.
She
looked
at
it
.
Charles
noticed
it
;
he
took
it
and
carried
it
up
to
the
attic
,
while
Emma
seated
in
an
arm-chair
(
they
were
putting
her
things
down
around
her
)
thought
of
her
bridal
flowers
packed
up
in
a
bandbox
,
and
wondered
,
dreaming
,
what
would
be
done
with
them
if
she
were
to
die
.
During
the
first
days
she
occupied
herself
in
thinking
about
changes
in
the
house
.
She
took
the
shades
off
the
candlesticks
,
had
new
wallpaper
put
up
,
the
staircase
repainted
,
and
seats
made
in
the
garden
round
the
sundial
;
she
even
inquired
how
she
could
get
a
basin
with
a
jet
fountain
and
fishes
.
Finally
her
husband
,
knowing
that
she
liked
to
drive
out
,
picked
up
a
second-hand
dogcart
,
which
,
with
new
lamps
and
splashboard
in
striped
leather
,
looked
almost
like
a
tilbury
.
He
was
happy
then
,
and
without
a
care
in
the
world
.
A
meal
together
,
a
walk
in
the
evening
on
the
highroad
,
a
gesture
of
her
hands
over
her
hair
,
the
sight
of
her
straw
hat
hanging
from
the
window-fastener
,
and
many
another
thing
in
which
Charles
had
never
dreamed
of
pleasure
,
now
made
up
the
endless
round
of
his
happiness
.
In
bed
,
in
the
morning
,
by
her
side
,
on
the
pillow
,
he
watched
the
sunlight
sinking
into
the
down
on
her
fair
cheek
,
half
hidden
by
the
lappets
of
her
night-cap
.
Seen
thus
closely
,
her
eyes
looked
to
him
enlarged
,
especially
when
,
on
waking
up
,
she
opened
and
shut
them
rapidly
many
times
.
Black
in
the
shade
,
dark
blue
in
broad
daylight
,
they
had
,
as
it
were
,
depths
of
different
colours
,
that
,
darker
in
the
centre
,
grew
paler
towards
the
surface
of
the
eye
.
His
own
eyes
lost
themselves
in
these
depths
;
he
saw
himself
in
miniature
down
to
the
shoulders
,
with
his
handkerchief
round
his
head
and
the
top
of
his
shirt
open
.
He
rose
.
She
came
to
the
window
to
see
him
off
,
and
stayed
leaning
on
the
sill
between
two
pots
of
geranium
,
clad
in
her
dressing
gown
hanging
loosely
about
her
.
Charles
,
in
the
street
buckled
his
spurs
,
his
foot
on
the
mounting
stone
,
while
she
talked
to
him
from
above
,
picking
with
her
mouth
some
scrap
of
flower
or
leaf
that
she
blew
out
at
him
.
Then
this
,
eddying
,
floating
,
described
semicircles
in
the
air
like
a
bird
,
and
was
caught
before
it
reached
the
ground
in
the
ill-groomed
mane
of
the
old
white
mare
standing
motionless
at
the
door
.
Charles
from
horseback
threw
her
a
kiss
;
she
answered
with
a
nod
;
she
shut
the
window
,
and
he
set
off
.
And
then
along
the
highroad
,
spreading
out
its
long
ribbon
of
dust
,
along
the
deep
lanes
that
the
trees
bent
over
as
in
arbours
,
along
paths
where
the
corn
reached
to
the
knees
,
with
the
sun
on
his
back
and
the
morning
air
in
his
nostrils
,
his
heart
full
of
the
joys
of
the
past
night
,
his
mind
at
rest
,
his
flesh
at
ease
,
he
went
on
,
re-chewing
his
happiness
,
like
those
who
after
dinner
taste
again
the
truffles
which
they
are
digesting
.
Until
now
what
good
had
he
had
of
his
life
?
His
time
at
school
,
when
he
remained
shut
up
within
the
high
walls
,
alone
,
in
the
midst
of
companions
richer
than
he
or
cleverer
at
their
work
,
who
laughed
at
his
accent
,
who
jeered
at
his
clothes
,
and
whose
mothers
came
to
the
school
with
cakes
in
their
muffs
?
Later
on
,
when
he
studied
medicine
,
and
never
had
his
purse
full
enough
to
treat
some
little
work-girl
who
would
have
become
his
mistress
?
Afterwards
,
he
had
lived
fourteen
months
with
the
widow
,
whose
feet
in
bed
were
cold
as
icicles
.
But
now
he
had
for
life
this
beautiful
woman
whom
he
adored
.
For
him
the
universe
did
not
extend
beyond
the
circumference
of
her
petticoat
,
and
he
reproached
himself
with
not
loving
her
.
He
wanted
to
see
her
again
;
he
turned
back
quickly
,
ran
up
the
stairs
with
a
beating
heart
.
Emma
,
in
her
room
,
was
dressing
;
he
came
up
on
tiptoe
,
kissed
her
back
;
she
gave
a
cry
He
could
not
keep
from
constantly
touching
her
comb
,
her
ring
,
her
fichu
;
sometimes
he
gave
her
great
sounding
kisses
with
all
his
mouth
on
her
cheeks
,
or
else
little
kisses
in
a
row
all
along
her
bare
arm
from
the
tip
of
her
fingers
up
to
her
shoulder
,
and
she
put
him
away
half-smiling
,
half-vexed
,
as
you
do
a
child
who
hangs
about
you
.
Before
marriage
she
thought
herself
in
love
;
but
the
happiness
that
should
have
followed
this
love
not
having
come
,
she
must
,
she
thought
,
have
been
mistaken
.
And
Emma
tried
to
find
out
what
one
meant
exactly
in
life
by
the
words
felicity
,
passion
,
rapture
,
that
had
seemed
to
her
so
beautiful
in
books
.
She
had
read
"
Paul
and
Virginia
,
"
and
she
had
dreamed
of
the
little
bamboo-house
,
the
nigger
Domingo
,
the
dog
Fiddle
,
but
above
all
of
the
sweet
friendship
of
some
dear
little
brother
,
who
seeks
red
fruit
for
you
on
trees
taller
than
steeples
,
or
who
runs
barefoot
over
the
sand
,
bringing
you
a
bird
's
nest
.
