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"
But
--
"
Then
,
yielding
to
the
outburst
of
too
powerful
a
desire
,
"
Well
,
yes
!
"
He
dragged
himself
towards
her
on
his
knees
,
regardless
of
his
dressing-gown
.
"
For
pity
's
sake
,
stay
.
I
love
you
!
"
He
seized
her
by
her
waist
.
Madame
Bovary
's
face
flushed
purple
.
She
recoiled
with
a
terrible
look
,
crying
--
"
You
are
taking
a
shameless
advantage
of
my
distress
,
sir
!
I
am
to
be
pitied
--
not
to
be
sold
.
"
And
she
went
out
.
The
notary
remained
quite
stupefied
,
his
eyes
fixed
on
his
fine
embroidered
slippers
.
They
were
a
love
gift
,
and
the
sight
of
them
at
last
consoled
him
.
Besides
,
he
reflected
that
such
an
adventure
might
have
carried
him
too
far
.
"
What
a
wretch
!
what
a
scoundrel
!
what
an
infamy
!
"
she
said
to
herself
,
as
she
fled
with
nervous
steps
beneath
the
aspens
of
the
path
.
The
disappointment
of
her
failure
increased
the
indignation
of
her
outraged
modesty
;
it
seemed
to
her
that
Providence
pursued
her
implacably
,
and
,
strengthening
herself
in
her
pride
,
she
had
never
felt
so
much
esteem
for
herself
nor
so
much
contempt
for
others
.
A
spirit
of
warfare
transformed
her
.
She
would
have
liked
to
strike
all
men
,
to
spit
in
their
faces
,
to
crush
them
,
and
she
walked
rapidly
straight
on
,
pale
,
quivering
,
maddened
,
searching
the
empty
horizon
with
tear-dimmed
eyes
,
and
as
it
were
rejoicing
in
the
hate
that
was
choking
her
.
When
she
saw
her
house
a
numbness
came
over
her
.
She
could
not
go
on
;
and
yet
she
must
.
Besides
,
whither
could
she
flee
?
