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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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- Стр. 193/303
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It
went
along
by
the
river
,
along
the
towing-path
paved
with
sharp
pebbles
,
and
for
a
long
while
in
the
direction
of
Oyssel
,
beyond
the
isles
.
But
suddenly
it
turned
with
a
dash
across
Quatremares
,
Sotteville
,
La
Grande-Chaussee
,
the
Rue
d'Elbeuf
,
and
made
its
third
halt
in
front
of
the
Jardin
des
Plantes
.
"
Get
on
,
will
you
?
"
cried
the
voice
more
furiously
.
And
at
once
resuming
its
course
,
it
passed
by
Saint-Sever
,
by
the
Quai
'd
es
Curandiers
,
the
Quai
aux
Meules
,
once
more
over
the
bridge
,
by
the
Place
du
Champ
de
Mars
,
and
behind
the
hospital
gardens
,
where
old
men
in
black
coats
were
walking
in
the
sun
along
the
terrace
all
green
with
ivy
.
It
went
up
the
Boulevard
Bouvreuil
,
along
the
Boulevard
Cauchoise
,
then
the
whole
of
Mont-Riboudet
to
the
Deville
hills
.
It
came
back
;
and
then
,
without
any
fixed
plan
or
direction
,
wandered
about
at
hazard
.
The
cab
was
seen
at
Saint-Pol
,
at
Lescure
,
at
Mont
Gargan
,
at
La
Rougue-Marc
and
Place
du
Gaillardbois
;
in
the
Rue
Maladrerie
,
Rue
Dinanderie
,
before
Saint-Romain
,
Saint-Vivien
,
Saint-Maclou
,
Saint-Nicaise
--
in
front
of
the
Customs
,
at
the
"
Vieille
Tour
,
"
the
"
Trois
Pipes
,
"
and
the
Monumental
Cemetery
.
From
time
to
time
the
coachman
,
on
his
box
cast
despairing
eyes
at
the
public-houses
.
He
could
not
understand
what
furious
desire
for
locomotion
urged
these
individuals
never
to
wish
to
stop
.
He
tried
to
now
and
then
,
and
at
once
exclamations
of
anger
burst
forth
behind
him
Then
he
lashed
his
perspiring
jades
afresh
,
but
indifferent
to
their
jolting
,
running
up
against
things
here
and
there
,
not
caring
if
he
did
,
demoralised
,
and
almost
weeping
with
thirst
,
fatigue
,
and
depression
.
And
on
the
harbour
,
in
the
midst
of
the
drays
and
casks
,
and
in
the
streets
,
at
the
corners
,
the
good
folk
opened
large
wonder-stricken
eyes
at
this
sight
,
so
extraordinary
in
the
provinces
,
a
cab
with
blinds
drawn
,
and
which
appeared
thus
constantly
shut
more
closely
than
a
tomb
,
and
tossing
about
like
a
vessel
.
Once
in
the
middle
of
the
day
,
in
the
open
country
,
just
as
the
sun
beat
most
fiercely
against
the
old
plated
lanterns
,
a
bared
hand
passed
beneath
the
small
blinds
of
yellow
canvas
,
and
threw
out
some
scraps
of
paper
that
scattered
in
the
wind
,
and
farther
off
lighted
like
white
butterflies
on
a
field
of
red
clover
all
in
bloom
.
At
about
six
o'clock
the
carriage
stopped
in
a
back
street
of
the
Beauvoisine
Quarter
,
and
a
woman
got
out
,
who
walked
with
her
veil
down
,
and
without
turning
her
head
.
On
reaching
the
inn
,
Madame
Bovary
was
surprised
not
to
see
the
diligence
.
Hivert
,
who
had
waited
for
her
fifty-three
minutes
,
had
at
last
started
.
