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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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- Стр. 52/303
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And
on
the
clerk
's
answer
,
she
begged
him
to
accompany
her
.
That
same
evening
this
was
known
in
Yonville
,
and
Madame
Tuvache
,
the
mayor
's
wife
,
declared
in
the
presence
of
her
servant
that
"
Madame
Bovary
was
compromising
herself
.
"
To
get
to
the
nurse
's
it
was
necessary
to
turn
to
the
left
on
leaving
the
street
,
as
if
making
for
the
cemetery
,
and
to
follow
between
little
houses
and
yards
a
small
path
bordered
with
privet
hedges
.
They
were
in
bloom
,
and
so
were
the
speedwells
,
eglantines
,
thistles
,
and
the
sweetbriar
that
sprang
up
from
the
thickets
.
Through
openings
in
the
hedges
one
could
see
into
the
huts
,
some
pigs
on
a
dung-heap
,
or
tethered
cows
rubbing
their
horns
against
the
trunk
of
trees
.
The
two
,
side
by
side
walked
slowly
,
she
leaning
upon
him
,
and
he
restraining
his
pace
,
which
he
regulated
by
hers
;
in
front
of
them
a
swarm
of
midges
fluttered
,
buzzing
in
the
warm
air
.
The
recognized
the
house
by
an
old
walnut-tree
which
shaded
it
.
Low
and
covered
with
brown
tiles
,
there
hung
outside
it
,
beneath
the
dormer-window
of
the
garret
,
a
string
of
onions
.
Faggots
upright
against
a
thorn
fence
surrounded
a
bed
of
lettuce
,
a
few
square
feet
of
lavender
,
and
sweet
peas
stung
on
sticks
.
Dirty
water
was
running
here
and
there
on
the
grass
,
and
all
round
were
several
indefinite
rags
,
knitted
stockings
,
a
red
calico
jacket
,
and
a
large
sheet
of
coarse
linen
spread
over
the
hedge
.
At
the
noise
of
the
gate
the
nurse
appeared
with
a
baby
she
was
suckling
on
one
arm
.
With
her
other
hand
she
was
pulling
along
a
poor
puny
little
fellow
,
his
face
covered
with
scrofula
,
the
son
of
a
Rouen
hosier
,
whom
his
parents
,
too
taken
up
with
their
business
,
left
in
the
country
.
"
Go
in
,
"
she
said
;
"
your
little
one
is
there
asleep
.
"
The
room
on
the
ground-floor
,
the
only
one
in
the
dwelling
,
had
at
its
farther
end
,
against
the
wall
,
a
large
bed
without
curtains
,
while
a
kneading-trough
took
up
the
side
by
the
window
,
one
pane
of
which
was
mended
with
a
piece
of
blue
paper
.
In
the
corner
behind
the
door
,
shining
hob-nailed
shoes
stood
in
a
row
under
the
slab
of
the
washstand
,
near
a
bottle
of
oil
with
a
feather
stuck
in
its
mouth
;
a
Matthieu
Laensberg
lay
on
the
dusty
mantelpiece
amid
gunflints
,
candle-ends
,
and
bits
of
amadou
.
Finally
,
the
last
luxury
in
the
apartment
was
a
"
Fame
"
blowing
her
trumpets
,
a
picture
cut
out
,
no
doubt
,
from
some
perfumer
's
prospectus
and
nailed
to
the
wall
with
six
wooden
shoe-pegs
.
Emma
's
child
was
asleep
in
a
wicker-cradle
.
She
took
it
up
in
the
wrapping
that
enveloped
it
and
began
singing
softly
as
she
rocked
herself
to
and
fro
.
