Госпожа Бовари

Chapter 8

           Shesawthefarmagain,themuddypond,herfatherinablouseundertheappletrees,andshesawherselfagainasformerly,skimmingwithherfingerthecreamoffthemilk-pansinthedairy.Butintherefulgenceofthepresenthourherpastlife,sodistinctuntilthen,fadedawaycompletely,andshealmostdoubtedhavinglivedit.Shewasthere;beyondtheballwasonlyshadowoverspreadingalltherest.Shewasjusteatingamaraschinoicethatsheheldwithherlefthandinasilver-giltcup,hereyeshalf-closed,andthespoonbetweenherteeth.

           Aladynearherdroppedherfan.Agentlemenwaspassing.

           "Wouldyoubesogood,"saidthelady,"astopickupmyfanthathasfallenbehindthesofa?"

           Thegentlemanbowed,andashemovedtostretchouthisarm,Emmasawthehandofayoungwomanthrowsomethingwhite,foldedinatriangle,intohishat.Thegentleman,pickingupthefan,offeredittotheladyrespectfully;shethankedhimwithaninclinationofthehead,andbegansmellingherbouquet.

           Aftersupper,wherewereplentyofSpanishandRhinewines,soupsalabisqueandaulaitd’amandes,puddingsalaTrafalgar,andallsortsofcoldmeatswithjelliesthattrembledinthedishes,thecarriagesoneaftertheotherbegantodriveoff.Raisingthecornersofthemuslincurtain,onecouldseethelightoftheirlanternsglimmeringthroughthedarkness.Theseatsbegantoempty,somecard-playerswerestillleft;themusicianswerecoolingthetipsoftheirfingersontheirtongues.Charleswashalfasleep,hisbackproppedagainstadoor.

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