Госпожа Бовари

Chapter 7

           Butsheherlifewascoldasagarretwhosedormerwindowlooksonthenorth,andennui,thesilentspider,wasweavingitswebinthedarknessineverycornerofherheart.

           Sherecalledtheprizedays,whenshemountedtheplatformtoreceiveherlittlecrowns,withherhairinlongplaits.Inherwhitefrockandopenprunellashoesshehadaprettyway,andwhenshewentbacktoherseat,thegentlemenbentoverhertocongratulateher;thecourtyardwasfullofcarriages;farewellswerecalledtoherthroughtheirwindows;themusicmasterwithhisviolincasebowedinpassingby.Howfarallofthis!Howfaraway!ShecalledDjali,tookherbetweenherknees,andsmoothedthelongdelicatehead,saying,"Come,kissmistress;youhavenotroubles."

           Thennotingthemelancholyfaceofthegracefulanimal,whoyawnedslowly,shesoftened,andcomparinghertoherself,spoketoheraloudastosomebodyintroublewhomoneisconsoling.

           Occasionallytherecamegustsofwinds,breezesfromthesearollinginonesweepoverthewholeplateauoftheCauxcountry,whichbroughteventothesefieldsasaltfreshness.Therushes,closetotheground,whistled;thebranchestrembledinaswiftrustling,whiletheirsummits,ceaselesslyswaying,keptupadeepmurmur.Emmadrewhershawlroundhershouldersandrose.

           Intheavenueagreenlightdimmedbytheleaveslituptheshortmossthatcrackledsoftlybeneathherfeet.

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