Госпожа Бовари

Chapter 9

           Alargestraightstaircaseleduptothecorridor.Emmaraisedthelatchofadoor,andsuddenlyattheendoftheroomshesawamansleeping.ItwasRodolphe.Sheutteredacry.

           "Youhere?Youhere?"herepeated."Howdidyoumanagetocome?Ah!yourdressisdamp."

           "Iloveyou,"sheanswered,throwingherarmsabouthisneck.

           Thisfirstpieceofdaringsuccessful,noweverytimeCharleswentoutearlyEmmadressedquicklyandslippedontiptoedownthestepsthatledtothewaterside.

           Butwhentheplankforthecowswastakenup,shehadtogobythewallsalongsideoftheriver;thebankwasslippery;inordernottofallshecaughtholdofthetuftsoffadedwallflowers.Thenshewentacrossploughedfields,inwhichshesank,stumbling;andcloggingherthinshoes.Herscarf,knottedroundherhead,flutteredtothewindinthemeadows.Shewasafraidoftheoxen;shebegantorun;shearrivedoutofbreath,withrosycheeks,andbreathingoutfromherwholepersonafreshperfumeofsap,ofverdure,oftheopenair.AtthishourRodolphestillslept.Itwaslikeaspringmorningcomingintohisroom.

           Theyellowcurtainsalongthewindowsletaheavy,whitishlightentersoftly.Emmafeltabout,openingandclosinghereyes,whilethedropsofdewhangingfromherhairformed,asitwere,atopazaureolearoundherface.Rodolphe,laughing,drewhertohim,andpressedhertohisbreast.

           Thensheexaminedtheapartment,openedthedrawersofthetables,combedherhairwithhiscomb,andlookedatherselfinhisshaving-glass

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