Госпожа Бовари

Chapter 9

           Hereaditalittleafterdinner,butinaboutfiveminutesthewarmthoftheroomaddedtotheeffectofhisdinnersenthimtosleep;andhesatthere,hischinonhistwohandsandhishairspreadinglikeamanetothefootofthelamp.Emmalookedathimandshruggedhershoulders.Why,atleast,wasnotherhusbandoneofthosemenoftaciturnpassionswhoworkattheirbooksallnight,andatlast,whenaboutsixty,theageofrheumatismsetsin,wearastringofordersontheirill-fittingblackcoat?ShecouldhavewishedthisnameofBovary,whichwashers,hadbeenillustrious,toseeitdisplayedatthebooksellers’,repeatedinthenewspapers,knowntoallFrance.ButCharleshadnoambition.

           AnYvetotdoctorwhomhehadlatelymetinconsultationhadsomewhathumiliatedhimattheverybedsideofthepatient,beforetheassembledrelatives.When,intheevening,Charlestoldherthisanecdote,Emmainveighedloudlyagainsthiscolleague.Charleswasmuchtouched.Hekissedherforeheadwithatearinhiseyes.Butshewasangeredwithshame;shefeltawilddesiretostrikehim;shewenttoopenthewindowinthepassageandbreathedinthefreshairtocalmherself.

           "Whataman!Whataman!"shesaidinalowvoice,bitingherlips.

           Besides,shewasbecomingmoreirritatedwithhim.

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