Madame Bovary - Penn State University

Madame Bovaryand again mounted his nag, whose feet struck fire as it dashed The other replied, sobbing, “I don’t know! I don’t know!along.It’s a curse!”He said to himself that no doubt they would save her; the The druggist separated them. “These horrible details aredoctors would discover some remedy surely. He remembered useless. I will tell this gentleman all about it. Here are theall the miraculous cures he had been told about. Then she people coming. Dignity! Come now! Philosophy!”appeared to him dead. She was there; before his eyes, lying on The poor fellow tried to show himself brave, and repeatedher back in the middle of the road. He reined up, and the several times. “Yes! courage!”hallucination disappeared.“Oh,” cried the old man, “so I will have, by God! I’ll goAt Quincampoix, to give himself heart, he drank three cups along o’ her to the end!”of coffee one after the other. He fancied they had made a The bell began tolling. All was ready; they had to start.mistake in the name in writing. He looked for the letter in And seated in a stall of the choir, side by side, they saw passhis pocket, felt it there, but did not dare to open it. and repass in front of them continually the three chantingAt last he began to think it was all a joke; someone’s spite, choristers.the jest of some wag; and besides, if she were dead, one would The serpent-player was blowing with all his might. MonsieurBournisien, in full vestments, was singing in a shrill voice.have known it. But no! There was nothing extraordinary aboutthe country; the sky was blue, the trees swayed; a flock of He bowed before the tabernacle, raising his hands, stretchedsheep passed. He saw the village; he was seen coming bending out his arms. Lestiboudois went about the church with hisforward upon his horse, belabouring it with great blows, the whalebone stick. The bier stood near the lectern, betweengirths dripping with blood.four rows of candles. Charles felt inclined to get up and putWhen he had recovered consciousness, he fell, weeping, into them out.Bovary’s arms: “My girl! Emma! my child! tell me—” Yet he tried to stir himself to a feeling of devotion, to throw286