Госпожа Бовари

Chapter 8

           Theyremindedher,nodoubt,ofthemorningofNewYear’sdayandMid-Lent,whenthusawakenedearlybycandle-lightshecametohermother’sbedtofetchherpresents,forshebegansaying

           "Butwhereisit,mamma?"Andaseverybodywassilent,"ButIcan’tseemylittlestocking."

           Feliciteheldheroverthebedwhileshestillkeptlookingtowardsthemantelpiece.

           "Hasnursetakenit?"sheasked.

           Andatthisname,thatcarriedherbacktothememoryofheradulteriesandhercalamities,MadameBovaryturnedawayherhead,asattheloathingofanotherbittererpoisonthatrosetohermouth.ButBertheremainedperchedonthebed.

           "Oh,howbigyoureyesare,mamma!Howpaleyouare!howhotyouare!"

           Hermotherlookedather."Iamfrightened!"criedthechild,recoiling.

           Emmatookherhandtokissit;thechildstruggled.

           "Thatwilldo.Takeheraway,"criedCharles,whowassobbinginthealcove.

           Thenthesymptomsceasedforamoment;sheseemedlessagitated;andateveryinsignificantword,ateveryrespirationalittlemoreeasy,heregainedhope.Atlast,whenCanivetcamein,hethrewhimselfintohisarms.

           "Ah!itisyou.Thanks!Youaregood!Butsheisbetter.See!lookather."

           Hiscolleaguewasbynomeansofthisopinion,and,ashesaidofhimself,"neverbeatingaboutthebush,"heprescribed,anemeticinordertoemptythestomachcompletely.

           Shesoonbeganvomitingblood.Herlipsbecamedrawn.

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