Госпожа Бовари

Chapter 9

           HowsadshewasonSundayswhenvesperssounded!Shelistenedwithdullattentiontoeachstrokeofthecrackedbell.Acatslowlywalkingoversomeroofputuphisbackinthepaleraysofthesum.Thewindonthehighroadblewupcloudsofdust.Afaroffadogsometimeshowled;andthebell,keepingtime,continueditsmonotonousringingthatdiedawayoverthefields.

           Butthepeoplecameoutfromchurch.Thewomeninwaxedclogs,thepeasantsinnewblouses,thelittlebare-headedchildrenskippingalonginfrontofthem,allweregoinghome.Andtillnightfall,fiveorsixmen,alwaysthesame,stayedplayingatcorksinfrontofthelargedooroftheinn.

           Thewinterwassevere.Thewindowseverymorningwerecoveredwithrime,andthelightshiningthroughthem,dimasthroughground-glass,sometimesdidnotchangethewholedaylong.Atfouro’clockthelamphadtobelighted.

           Onfinedaysshewentdownintothegarden.Thedewhadleftonthecabbagesasilverlacewithlongtransparentthreadsspreadingfromonetotheother.Nobirdsweretobeheard;everythingseemedasleep,theespaliercoveredwithstraw,andthevine,likeagreatsickserpentunderthecopingofthewall,alongwhich,ondrawinghear,onesawthemany-footedwoodlicecrawling.Underthesprucebythehedgerow,thecurieinthethree-corneredhatreadinghisbreviaryhadlosthisrightfoot,andtheveryplaster,scalingoffwiththefrost,hadleftwhitescabsonhisface.

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