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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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He
thought
he
was
to
be
pitied
for
living
in
this
village
,
with
Homais
for
a
friend
and
Monsieru
Guillaumin
for
master
.
The
latter
,
entirely
absorbed
by
his
business
,
wearing
gold-rimmed
spectacles
and
red
whiskers
over
a
white
cravat
,
understood
nothing
of
mental
refinements
,
although
he
affected
a
stiff
English
manner
,
which
in
the
beginning
had
impressed
the
clerk
As
to
the
chemist
's
spouse
,
she
was
the
best
wife
in
Normandy
,
gentle
as
a
sheep
,
loving
her
children
,
her
father
,
her
mother
,
her
cousins
,
weeping
for
other
's
woes
,
letting
everything
go
in
her
household
,
and
detesting
corsets
;
but
so
slow
of
movement
,
such
a
bore
to
listen
to
,
so
common
in
appearance
,
and
of
such
restricted
conversation
,
that
although
she
was
thirty
,
he
only
twenty
,
although
they
slept
in
rooms
next
each
other
and
he
spoke
to
her
daily
,
he
never
thought
that
she
might
be
a
woman
for
another
,
or
that
she
possessed
anything
else
of
her
sex
than
the
gown
.
And
what
else
was
there
?
Binet
,
a
few
shopkeepers
,
two
or
three
publicans
,
the
cure
,
and
finally
,
Monsieur
Tuvache
,
the
mayor
,
with
his
two
sons
,
rich
,
crabbed
,
obtuse
persons
,
who
farmed
their
own
lands
and
had
feasts
among
themselves
,
bigoted
to
boot
,
and
quite
unbearable
companions
.
But
from
the
general
background
of
all
these
human
faces
Emma
's
stood
out
isolated
and
yet
farthest
off
;
for
between
her
and
him
he
seemed
to
see
a
vague
abyss
.
In
the
beginning
he
had
called
on
her
several
times
along
with
the
druggist
.
Charles
had
not
appeared
particularly
anxious
to
see
him
again
,
and
Leon
did
not
know
what
to
do
between
his
fear
of
being
indiscreet
and
the
desire
for
an
intimacy
that
seemed
almost
impossible
.
When
the
first
cold
days
set
in
Emma
left
her
bedroom
for
the
sitting-room
,
a
long
apartment
with
a
low
ceiling
,
in
which
there
was
on
the
mantelpiece
a
large
bunch
of
coral
spread
out
against
the
looking-glass
.
Seated
in
her
arm
chair
near
the
window
,
she
could
see
the
villagers
pass
along
the
pavement
.
Twice
a
day
Leon
went
from
his
office
to
the
Lion
d'Or
.
Emma
could
hear
him
coming
from
afar
;
she
leant
forward
listening
,
and
the
young
man
glided
past
the
curtain
,
always
dressed
in
the
same
way
,
and
without
turning
his
head
.
But
in
the
twilight
,
when
,
her
chin
resting
on
her
left
hand
,
she
let
the
embroidery
she
had
begun
fall
on
her
knees
,
she
often
shuddered
at
the
apparition
of
this
shadow
suddenly
gliding
past
.
She
would
get
up
and
order
the
table
to
be
laid
.
Monsieur
Homais
called
at
dinner-time
.
Skull-cap
in
hand
,
he
came
in
on
tiptoe
,
in
order
to
disturb
no
one
,
always
repeating
the
same
phrase
,
"
Good
evening
,
everybody
.
"
Then
,
when
he
had
taken
his
seat
at
the
table
between
the
pair
,
he
asked
the
doctor
about
his
patients
,
and
the
latter
consulted
his
as
to
the
probability
of
their
payment
.
Next
they
talked
of
"
what
was
in
the
paper
.
"
Homais
by
this
hour
knew
it
almost
by
heart
,
and
he
repeated
it
from
end
to
end
,
with
the
reflections
of
the
penny-a-liners
,
and
all
the
stories
of
individual
catastrophes
that
had
occurred
in
France
or
abroad
.
But
the
subject
becoming
exhausted
,
he
was
not
slow
in
throwing
out
some
remarks
on
the
dishes
before
him
.
Sometimes
even
,
half-rising
,
he
delicately
pointed
out
to
madame
the
tenderest
morsel
,
or
turning
to
the
servant
,
gave
her
some
advice
on
the
manipulation
of
stews
and
the
hygiene
of
seasoning
.
