Madame Bovary - Penn State University

Madame Bovarying with her, sending according to the season fruits or game. nothing, and she went on quickly up the stairs, breathless,“If she asks after me,” he said, “you will tell her that I have distraught, dumb, and ever holding this horrible piece of paper,that crackled between her fingers like a plate of sheet-gone on a journey. You must give the basket to her herself,into her own hands. Get along and take care!”iron. On the second floor she stopped before the attic door,Girard put on his new blouse, knotted his handkerchief which was closed.round the apricots, and walking with great heavy steps in his Then she tried to calm herself; she recalled the letter; shethick iron-bound galoshes, made his way to Yonville. must finish it; she did not dare to. And where? How? SheMadame Bovary, when he got to her house, was arranging a would be seen! “Ah, no! here,” she thought, “I shall be allbundle of linen on the kitchen-table with Felicite.right.”“Here,” said the ploughboy, “is something for you—from Emma pushed open the door and went in.the master.”The slates threw straight down a heavy heat that grippedShe was seized with apprehension, and as she sought in her her temples, stifled her; she dragged herself to the closed garret-window.She drew back the bolt, and the dazzling lightpocket for some coppers, she looked at the peasant with haggardeyes, while he himself looked at her with amazement, burst in with a leap.not understanding how such a present could so move anyone.At last he went out. Felicite remained. She could bear it it was lost to sight. Down below, underneath her, the villageOpposite, beyond the roofs, stretched the open country tillno longer; she ran into the sitting room as if to take the apricotsthere, overturned the basket, tore away the leaves, found weathercocks on the houses were motionless. At the cornersquare was empty; the stones of the pavement glittered, thethe letter, opened it, and, as if some fearful fire were behind of the street, from a lower storey, rose a kind of hummingher, Emma flew to her room terrified.with strident modulations. It was Binet turning.Charles was there; she saw him; he spoke to her; she heard She leant against the embrasure of the window, and reread176