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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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- Стр. 212/303
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And
she
did
not
listen
for
his
answer
in
the
haste
of
her
lips
that
fastened
to
his
mouth
.
On
the
clock
there
was
a
bronze
cupid
,
who
smirked
as
he
bent
his
arm
beneath
a
golden
garland
.
They
had
laughed
at
it
many
a
time
,
but
when
they
had
to
part
everything
seemed
serious
to
them
.
Motionless
in
front
of
each
other
,
they
kept
repeating
,
"
Till
Thursday
,
till
Thursday
.
"
Suddenly
she
seized
his
head
between
her
hands
,
kissed
him
hurriedly
on
the
forehead
,
crying
,
"
Adieu
!
"
and
rushed
down
the
stairs
.
She
went
to
a
hairdresser
's
in
the
Rue
de
la
Comedie
to
have
her
hair
arranged
.
Night
fell
;
the
gas
was
lighted
in
the
shop
.
She
heard
the
bell
at
the
theatre
calling
the
mummers
to
the
performance
,
and
she
saw
,
passing
opposite
,
men
with
white
faces
and
women
in
faded
gowns
going
in
at
the
stage-door
.
It
was
hot
in
the
room
,
small
,
and
too
low
where
the
stove
was
hissing
in
the
midst
of
wigs
and
pomades
.
The
smell
of
the
tongs
,
together
with
the
greasy
hands
that
handled
her
head
,
soon
stunned
her
,
and
she
dozed
a
little
in
her
wrapper
.
Often
,
as
he
did
her
hair
,
the
man
offered
her
tickets
for
a
masked
ball
.
Then
she
went
away
.
She
went
up
the
streets
;
reached
the
Croix-Rouge
,
put
on
her
overshoes
,
that
she
had
hidden
in
the
morning
under
the
seat
,
and
sank
into
her
place
among
the
impatient
passengers
.
Some
got
out
at
the
foot
of
the
hill
.
She
remained
alone
in
the
carriage
.
At
every
turning
all
the
lights
of
the
town
were
seen
more
and
more
completely
,
making
a
great
luminous
vapour
about
the
dim
houses
.
Emma
knelt
on
the
cushions
and
her
eyes
wandered
over
the
dazzling
light
.
She
sobbed
;
called
on
Leon
,
sent
him
tender
words
and
kisses
lost
in
the
wind
.
On
the
hillside
a
poor
devil
wandered
about
with
his
stick
in
the
midst
of
the
diligences
.
A
mass
of
rags
covered
his
shoulders
,
and
an
old
staved-in
beaver
,
turned
out
like
a
basin
,
hid
his
face
;
but
when
he
took
it
off
he
discovered
in
the
place
of
eyelids
empty
and
bloody
orbits
.
The
flesh
hung
in
red
shreds
,
and
there
flowed
from
it
liquids
that
congealed
into
green
scale
down
to
the
nose
,
whose
black
nostrils
sniffed
convulsively
.
To
speak
to
you
he
threw
back
his
head
with
an
idiotic
laugh
;
then
his
bluish
eyeballs
,
rolling
constantly
,
at
the
temples
beat
against
the
edge
of
the
open
wound
.
He
sang
a
little
song
as
he
followed
the
carriages
--
"
Maids
an
the
warmth
of
a
summer
day
Dream
of
love
,
and
of
love
always
"
