-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Гюстав Флобер
-
- Госпожа Бовари
-
- Стр. 37/303
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
When
they
left
Tostes
at
the
month
of
March
,
Madame
Bovary
was
pregnant
.
Yonville-l'Abbaye
(
so
called
from
an
old
Capuchin
abbey
of
which
not
even
the
ruins
remain
)
is
a
market-town
twenty-four
miles
from
Rouen
,
between
the
Abbeville
and
Beauvais
roads
,
at
the
foot
of
a
valley
watered
by
the
Rieule
,
a
little
river
that
runs
into
the
Andelle
after
turning
three
water-mills
near
its
mouth
,
where
there
are
a
few
trout
that
the
lads
amuse
themselves
by
fishing
for
on
Sundays
.
We
leave
the
highroad
at
La
Boissiere
and
keep
straight
on
to
the
top
of
the
Leux
hill
,
whence
the
valley
is
seen
.
The
river
that
runs
through
it
makes
of
it
,
as
it
were
,
two
regions
with
distinct
physiognomies
--
all
on
the
left
is
pasture
land
,
all
of
the
right
arable
.
The
meadow
stretches
under
a
bulge
of
low
hills
to
join
at
the
back
with
the
pasture
land
of
the
Bray
country
,
while
on
the
eastern
side
,
the
plain
,
gently
rising
,
broadens
out
,
showing
as
far
as
eye
can
follow
its
blond
cornfields
.
The
water
,
flowing
by
the
grass
,
divides
with
a
white
line
the
colour
of
the
roads
and
of
the
plains
,
and
the
country
is
like
a
great
unfolded
mantle
with
a
green
velvet
cape
bordered
with
a
fringe
of
silver
.
Before
us
,
on
the
verge
of
the
horizon
,
lie
the
oaks
of
the
forest
of
Argueil
,
with
the
steeps
of
the
Saint-Jean
hills
scarred
from
top
to
bottom
with
red
irregular
lines
;
they
are
rain
tracks
,
and
these
brick-tones
standing
out
in
narrow
streaks
against
the
grey
colour
of
the
mountain
are
due
to
the
quantity
of
iron
springs
that
flow
beyond
in
the
neighboring
country
.
Here
we
are
on
the
confines
of
Normandy
,
Picardy
,
and
the
Ile-de-France
,
a
bastard
land
whose
language
is
without
accent
and
its
landscape
is
without
character
.
It
is
there
that
they
make
the
worst
Neufchatel
cheeses
of
all
the
arrondissement
;
and
,
on
the
other
hand
,
farming
is
costly
because
so
much
manure
is
needed
to
enrich
this
friable
soil
full
of
sand
and
flints
.
Up
to
1835
there
was
no
practicable
road
for
getting
to
Yonville
,
but
about
this
time
a
cross-road
was
made
which
joins
that
of
Abbeville
to
that
of
Amiens
,
and
is
occasionally
used
by
the
Rouen
wagoners
on
their
way
to
Flanders
.
Yonville-l'Abbaye
has
remained
stationary
in
spite
of
its
"
new
outlet
.
"
Instead
of
improving
the
soil
,
they
persist
in
keeping
up
the
pasture
lands
,
however
depreciated
they
may
be
in
value
,
and
the
lazy
borough
,
growing
away
from
the
plain
,
has
naturally
spread
riverwards
.
It
is
seem
from
afar
sprawling
along
the
banks
like
a
cowherd
taking
a
siesta
by
the
water-side
.
At
the
foot
of
the
hill
beyond
the
bridge
begins
a
roadway
,
planted
with
young
aspens
,
that
leads
in
a
straight
line
to
the
first
houses
in
the
place
.
These
,
fenced
in
by
hedges
,
are
in
the
middle
of
courtyards
full
of
straggling
buildings
,
wine-presses
,
cart-sheds
and
distilleries
scattered
under
thick
trees
,
with
ladders
,
poles
,
or
scythes
hung
on
to
the
branches
.
The
thatched
roofs
,
like
fur
caps
drawn
over
eyes
,
reach
down
over
about
a
third
of
the
low
windows
,
whose
coarse
convex
glasses
have
knots
in
the
middle
like
the
bottoms
of
bottles
.
Against
the
plaster
wall
diagonally
crossed
by
black
joists
,
a
meagre
pear-tree
sometimes
leans
and
the
ground-floors
have
at
their
door
a
small
swing-gate
to
keep
out
the
chicks
that
come
pilfering
crumbs
of
bread
steeped
in
cider
on
the
threshold
.
But
the
courtyards
grow
narrower
,
the
houses
closer
together
,
and
the
fences
disappear
;
a
bundle
of
ferns
swings
under
a
window
from
the
end
of
a
broomstick
;
there
is
a
blacksmith
's
forge
and
then
a
wheelwright
's
,
with
two
or
three
new
carts
outside
that
partly
block
the
way
.
Then
across
an
open
space
appears
a
white
house
beyond
a
grass
mound
ornamented
by
a
Cupid
,
his
finger
on
his
lips
;
two
brass
vases
are
at
each
end
of
a
flight
of
steps
;
scutcheons
blaze
upon
the
door
.
It
is
the
notary
's
house
,
and
the
finest
in
the
place
.
The
Church
is
on
the
other
side
of
the
street
,
twenty
paces
farther
down
,
at
the
entrance
of
the
square
.
The
little
cemetery
that
surrounds
it
,
closed
in
by
a
wall
breast
high
,
is
so
full
of
graves
that
the
old
stones
,
level
with
the
ground
,
form
a
continuous
pavement
,
on
which
the
grass
of
itself
has
marked
out
regular
green
squares
.
The
church
was
rebuilt
during
the
last
years
of
the
reign
of
Charles
X
.
The
wooden
roof
is
beginning
to
rot
from
the
top
,
and
here
and
there
has
black
hollows
in
its
blue
colour
.
Over
the
door
,
where
the
organ
should
be
,
is
a
loft
for
the
men
,
with
a
spiral
staircase
that
reverberates
under
their
wooden
shoes
.
The
daylight
coming
through
the
plain
glass
windows
falls
obliquely
upon
the
pews
ranged
along
the
walls
,
which
are
adorned
here
and
there
with
a
straw
mat
bearing
beneath
it
the
words
in
large
letters
,
"
Mr.
So-and-so
's
pew
.
"
Farther
on
,
at
a
spot
where
the
building
narrows
,
the
confessional
forms
a
pendant
to
a
statuette
of
the
Virgin
,
clothed
in
a
satin
robe
,
coifed
with
a
tulle
veil
sprinkled
with
silver
stars
,
and
with
red
cheeks
,
like
an
idol
of
the
Sandwich
Islands
;
and
,
finally
,
a
copy
of
the
"
Holy
Family
,
presented
by
the
Minister
of
the
Interior
,
"
overlooking
the
high
altar
,
between
four
candlesticks
,
closes
in
the
perspective
.
The
choir
stalls
,
of
deal
wood
,
have
been
left
unpainted
.
