Chapter 7

           ThenextdaywasadrearyoneforEmma.Everythingseemedtoherenvelopedinablackatmospherefloatingconfusedlyovertheexteriorofthings,andsorrowwasengulfedwithinhersoulwithsoftshriekssuchasthewinterwindmakesinruinedcastles.Itwasthatreveriewhichwegivetothingsthatwillnotreturn,thelassitudethatseizesyouaftereverythingwasdone;thatpain,infine,thattheinterruptionofeverywontedmovement,thesuddencessationofanyprolongedvibration,bringson.

           AsonthereturnfromVaubyessard,whenthequadrilleswererunninginherhead,shewasfullofagloomymelancholy,ofanumbdespair.Leonreappeared,taller,handsomer,morecharming,morevague.Thoughseparatedfromher,hehadnotlefther;hewasthere,andthewallsofthehouseseemedtoholdhisshadow.

           Shecouldnotdetachhereyesfromthecarpetwherehehadwalked,fromthoseemptychairswherehehadsat.Theriverstillflowedon,andslowlydroveitsripplesalongtheslipperybanks.

           Theyhadoftenwalkedtheretothemurmurofthewavesoverthemoss-coveredpebbles.Howbrightthesunhadbeen!Whathappyafternoonstheyhadseenalongintheshadeattheendofthegarden!Hereadaloud,bareheaded,sittingonafootstoolofdrysticks;thefreshwindofthemeadowsettremblingtheleavesofthebookandthenasturtiumsofthearbour.Ah!hewasgone,theonlycharmofherlife,theonlypossiblehopeofjoy.

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 165 из 453