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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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Then
she
remembered
the
day
when
,
all
anxious
and
full
of
hope
,
she
had
entered
beneath
this
large
nave
,
that
had
opened
out
before
her
,
less
profound
than
her
love
;
and
she
walked
on
weeping
beneath
her
veil
,
giddy
,
staggering
,
almost
fainting
.
"
Take
care
!
"
cried
a
voice
issuing
from
the
gate
of
a
courtyard
that
was
thrown
open
.
She
stopped
to
let
pass
a
black
horse
,
pawing
the
ground
between
the
shafts
of
a
tilbury
,
driven
by
a
gentleman
in
sable
furs
.
Who
was
it
?
She
knew
him
.
The
carriage
darted
by
and
disappeared
.
Why
,
it
was
he
--
the
Viscount
.
She
turned
away
;
the
street
was
empty
.
She
was
so
overwhelmed
,
so
sad
,
that
she
had
to
lean
against
a
wall
to
keep
herself
from
falling
.
Then
she
thought
she
had
been
mistaken
.
Anyhow
,
she
did
not
know
.
All
within
her
and
around
her
was
abandoning
her
.
She
felt
lost
,
sinking
at
random
into
indefinable
abysses
,
and
it
was
almost
with
joy
that
,
on
reaching
the
"
Croix-Rouge
,
"
she
saw
the
good
Homais
,
who
was
watching
a
large
box
full
of
pharmaceutical
stores
being
hoisted
on
to
the
"
Hirondelle
.
"
In
his
hand
he
held
tied
in
a
silk
handkerchief
six
cheminots
for
his
wife
.
Madame
Homais
was
very
fond
of
these
small
,
heavy
turban-shaped
loaves
,
that
are
eaten
in
Lent
with
salt
butter
;
a
last
vestige
of
Gothic
food
that
goes
back
,
perhaps
,
to
the
time
of
the
Crusades
,
and
with
which
the
robust
Normans
gorged
themselves
of
yore
,
fancying
they
saw
on
the
table
,
in
the
light
of
the
yellow
torches
,
between
tankards
of
hippocras
and
huge
boars
'
heads
,
the
heads
of
Saracens
to
be
devoured
.
The
druggist
's
wife
crunched
them
up
as
they
had
done
--
heroically
,
despite
her
wretched
teeth
.
And
so
whenever
Homais
journeyed
to
town
,
he
never
failed
to
bring
her
home
some
that
he
bought
at
the
great
baker
's
in
the
Rue
Massacre
.
"
Charmed
to
see
you
,
"
he
said
,
offering
Emma
a
hand
to
help
her
into
the
"
Hirondelle
.
"
Then
he
hung
up
his
cheminots
to
the
cords
of
the
netting
,
and
remained
bare-headed
in
an
attitude
pensive
and
Napoleonic
.
But
when
the
blind
man
appeared
as
usual
at
the
foot
of
the
hill
he
exclaimed
--
"
I
ca
n't
understand
why
the
authorities
tolerate
such
culpable
industries
.
Such
unfortunates
should
be
locked
up
and
forced
to
work
.
Progress
,
my
word
!
creeps
at
a
snail
's
pace
.
We
are
floundering
about
in
mere
barbarism
.
"
