Madame Bovary - Penn State University

Flaubertthe letter with angry sneers. But the more she fixed her attentionupon it, the more confused were her ideas. She saw him made her faint with terror. She closed her eyes; then she shiv-The thought that she had just escaped from death almostagain, heard him, encircled him with her arms, and throbs of ered at the touch of a hand on her sleeve; it was Felicite.her heart, that beat against her breast like blows of a sledgehammer,grew faster and faster, with uneven intervals. She table.”“Master is waiting for you, madame; the soup is on thelooked about her with the wish that the earth might crumble And she had to go down to sit at table.into pieces. Why not end it all? What restrained her? She was She tried to eat. The food choked her. Then she unfoldedfree. She advanced, looking at the paving-stones, saying to her napkin as if to examine the darns, and she really thoughtherself, “Come! come!”of applying herself to this work, counting the threads in theThe luminous ray that came straight up from below drew linen. Suddenly the remembrance of the letter returned tothe weight of her body towards the abyss. It seemed to her her. How had she lost it? Where could she find it? But she feltthat the ground of the oscillating square went up the walls such weariness of spirit that she could not even invent a pretextfor leaving the table. Then she became a coward; she wasand that the floor dipped on end like a tossing boat. Shewas right at the edge, almost hanging, surrounded by vast afraid of Charles; he knew all, that was certain! Indeed hespace. The blue of the heavens suffused her, the air was whirlingin her hollow head; she had but to yield, to let herself be “We are not likely to see Monsieur Rodolphe soon again, itpronounced these words in a strange manner:taken; and the humming of the lathe never ceased, like an seems.”angry voice calling her.“Who told you?” she said, shuddering.“Emma! Emma!” cried Charles.“Who told me!” he replied, rather astonished at her abruptShe stopped.tone. “Why, Girard, whom I met just now at the door of the“Wherever are you? Come!”Cafe Francais. He has gone on a journey, or is to go.”177