Госпожа Бовари

Chapter 3

           Withherotherhandshewaspullingalongapoorpunylittlefellow,hisfacecoveredwithscrofula,thesonofaRouenhosier,whomhisparents,tootakenupwiththeirbusiness,leftinthecountry.

           "Goin,"shesaid;"yourlittleoneisthereasleep."

           Theroomontheground-floor,theonlyoneinthedwelling,hadatitsfartherend,againstthewall,alargebedwithoutcurtains,whileakneading-troughtookupthesidebythewindow,onepaneofwhichwasmendedwithapieceofbluepaper.Inthecornerbehindthedoor,shininghob-nailedshoesstoodinarowundertheslabofthewashstand,nearabottleofoilwithafeatherstuckinitsmouth;aMatthieuLaensberglayonthedustymantelpieceamidgunflints,candle-ends,andbitsofamadou.

           Finally,thelastluxuryintheapartmentwasa"Fame"blowinghertrumpets,apicturecutout,nodoubt,fromsomeperfumer’sprospectusandnailedtothewallwithsixwoodenshoe-pegs.

           Emma’schildwasasleepinawicker-cradle.Shetookitupinthewrappingthatenvelopeditandbegansingingsoftlyassherockedherselftoandfro.

           Leonwalkedupanddowntheroom;itseemedstrangetohimtoseethisbeautifulwomaninhernankeendressinthemidstofallthispoverty.MadamBovaryreddened;heturnedaway,thinkingperhapstherehadbeenanimpertinentlookinhiseyes.Thensheputbackthelittlegirl,whohadjustbeensickoverhercollar.

           Thenurseatoncecametodryher,protestingthatitwouldn’tshow.

           "Shegivesmeotherdoses,"shesaid:"Iamalwaysa-washingofher.

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