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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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She
charmed
him
by
numerous
attentions
;
now
it
was
some
new
way
of
arranging
paper
sconces
for
the
candles
,
a
flounce
that
she
altered
on
her
gown
,
or
an
extraordinary
name
for
some
very
simple
dish
that
the
servant
had
spoilt
,
but
that
Charles
swallowed
with
pleasure
to
the
last
mouthful
.
At
Rouen
she
saw
some
ladies
who
wore
a
bunch
of
charms
on
the
watch-chains
;
she
bought
some
charms
.
She
wanted
for
her
mantelpiece
two
large
blue
glass
vases
,
and
some
time
after
an
ivory
necessaire
with
a
silver-gilt
thimble
.
The
less
Charles
understood
these
refinements
the
more
they
seduced
him
.
They
added
something
to
the
pleasure
of
the
senses
and
to
the
comfort
of
his
fireside
.
It
was
like
a
golden
dust
sanding
all
along
the
narrow
path
of
his
life
.
He
was
well
,
looked
well
;
his
reputation
was
firmly
established
.
The
country-folk
loved
him
because
he
was
not
proud
.
He
petted
the
children
,
never
went
to
the
public
house
,
and
,
moreover
,
his
morals
inspired
confidence
.
He
was
specially
successful
with
catarrhs
and
chest
complaints
.
Being
much
afraid
of
killing
his
patients
,
Charles
,
in
fact
only
prescribed
sedatives
,
from
time
to
time
and
emetic
,
a
footbath
,
or
leeches
.
It
was
not
that
he
was
afraid
of
surgery
;
he
bled
people
copiously
like
horses
,
and
for
the
taking
out
of
teeth
he
had
the
"
devil
's
own
wrist
.
"
Finally
,
to
keep
up
with
the
times
,
he
took
in
"
La
Ruche
Medicale
,
"
a
new
journal
whose
prospectus
had
been
sent
him
.
He
read
it
a
little
after
dinner
,
but
in
about
five
minutes
the
warmth
of
the
room
added
to
the
effect
of
his
dinner
sent
him
to
sleep
;
and
he
sat
there
,
his
chin
on
his
two
hands
and
his
hair
spreading
like
a
mane
to
the
foot
of
the
lamp
.
Emma
looked
at
him
and
shrugged
her
shoulders
.
Why
,
at
least
,
was
not
her
husband
one
of
those
men
of
taciturn
passions
who
work
at
their
books
all
night
,
and
at
last
,
when
about
sixty
,
the
age
of
rheumatism
sets
in
,
wear
a
string
of
orders
on
their
ill-fitting
black
coat
?
She
could
have
wished
this
name
of
Bovary
,
which
was
hers
,
had
been
illustrious
,
to
see
it
displayed
at
the
booksellers
'
,
repeated
in
the
newspapers
,
known
to
all
France
.
But
Charles
had
no
ambition
.
An
Yvetot
doctor
whom
he
had
lately
met
in
consultation
had
somewhat
humiliated
him
at
the
very
bedside
of
the
patient
,
before
the
assembled
relatives
.
When
,
in
the
evening
,
Charles
told
her
this
anecdote
,
Emma
inveighed
loudly
against
his
colleague
.
Charles
was
much
touched
.
He
kissed
her
forehead
with
a
tear
in
his
eyes
.
But
she
was
angered
with
shame
;
she
felt
a
wild
desire
to
strike
him
;
she
went
to
open
the
window
in
the
passage
and
breathed
in
the
fresh
air
to
calm
herself
.
"
What
a
man
!
What
a
man
!
"
she
said
in
a
low
voice
,
biting
her
lips
.
Besides
,
she
was
becoming
more
irritated
with
him
.
As
he
grew
older
his
manner
grew
heavier
;
at
dessert
he
cut
the
corks
of
the
empty
bottles
;
after
eating
he
cleaned
his
teeth
with
his
tongue
;
in
taking
soup
he
made
a
gurgling
noise
with
every
spoonful
;
and
,
as
he
was
getting
fatter
,
the
puffed-out
cheeks
seemed
to
push
the
eyes
,
always
small
,
up
to
the
temples
.
Sometimes
Emma
tucked
the
red
borders
of
his
under-vest
unto
his
waistcoat
,
rearranged
his
cravat
,
and
threw
away
the
dirty
gloves
he
was
going
to
put
on
;
and
this
was
not
,
as
he
fancied
,
for
himself
;
it
was
for
herself
,
by
a
diffusion
of
egotism
,
of
nervous
irritation
.
Sometimes
,
too
,
she
told
him
of
what
she
had
read
,
such
as
a
passage
in
a
novel
,
of
a
new
play
,
or
an
anecdote
of
the
"
upper
ten
"
that
she
had
seen
in
a
feuilleton
;
for
,
after
all
,
Charles
was
something
,
an
ever-open
ear
,
and
ever-ready
approbation
.
She
confided
many
a
thing
to
her
greyhound
.
She
would
have
done
so
to
the
logs
in
the
fireplace
or
to
the
pendulum
of
the
clock
.
