Madame Bovary - Penn State University

Madame Bovaryd’Andervilliers would give another ball at Vaubyessard. But How sad she was on Sundays when vespers sounded! Sheall September passed without letters or visits.listened with dull attention to each stroke of the cracked bell.After the ennui of this disappointment her heart once more A cat slowly walking over some roof put up his back in theremained empty, and then the same series of days recommenced.So now they would thus follow one another, always clouds of dust. Afar off a dog sometimes howled; and thepale rays of the sum. The wind on the highroad blew upthe same, immovable, and bringing nothing. Other lives, bell, keeping time, continued its monotonous ringing thathowever flat, had at least the chance of some event. One adventuresometimes brought with it infinite consequences and But the people came out from church. The women in waxeddied away over the fields.the scene changed. But nothing happened to her; God had clogs, the peasants in new blouses, the little bare-headed childrenskipping along in front of them, all were going home.willed it so! The future was a dark corridor, with its door atthe end shut fast.And till nightfall, five or six men, always the same, stayedShe gave up music. What was the good of playing? Who playing at corks in front of the large door of the inn.would hear her? Since she could never, in a velvet gown with The winter was severe. The windows every morning wereshort sleeves, striking with her light fingers the ivory keys of covered with rime, and the light shining through them, diman Erard at a concert, feel the murmur of ecstasy envelop her as through ground-glass, sometimes did not change the wholelike a breeze, it was not worth while boring herself with practicing.Her drawing cardboard and her embroidery she left in On fine days she went down into the garden. The dew hadday long. At four o’clock the lamp had to be lighted.the cupboard. What was the good? What was the good? Sewingirritated her. “I have read everything,” she said to herself. spreading from one to the other. No birds were to be heard;left on the cabbages a silver lace with long transparent threadsAnd she sat there making the tongs red-hot, or looked at the everything seemed asleep, the espalier covered with straw, andrain falling.the vine, like a great sick serpent under the coping of the wall,56