Пані Боварі

Chapter 8

           TheNationalGuards,however,hadgoneuptothefirstfloorofthetownhallwithbunsspittedontheirbayonets,andthedrummerofthebattalioncarriedabasketwithbottles.MadameBovarytookRodolphe’sarm;hesawherhome;theyseparatedatherdoor;thenhewalkedaboutaloneinthemeadowwhilehewaitedforthetimeofthebanquet.

           Thefeastwaslong,noisy,illserved;theguestsweresocrowdedthattheycouldhardlymovetheirelbows;andthenarrowplanksusedforformsalmostbrokedownundertheirweight.Theyatehugely.Eachonestuffedhimselfonhisownaccount.Sweatstoodoneverybrow,andawhitishsteam,likethevapourofastreamonanautumnmorning,floatedabovethetablebetweenthehanginglamps.Rodolphe,leaningagainstthecalicoofthetentwasthinkingsoearnestlyofEmmathatheheardnothing.Behindhimonthegrasstheservantswerepilingupthedirtyplates,hisneighboursweretalking;hedidnotanswerthem;theyfilledhisglass,andtherewassilenceinhisthoughtsinspiteofthegrowingnoise.Hewasdreamingofwhatshehadsaid,ofthelineofherlips;herface,asinamagicmirror,shoneontheplatesoftheshakos,thefoldsofhergownfellalongthewalls,anddaysofloveunrolledtoallinfinitybeforehiminthevistasofthefuture.

           Hesawheragainintheeveningduringthefireworks,butshewaswithherhusband,MadameHomais,andthedruggist,whowasworryingaboutthedangerofstrayrockets,andeverymomentheleftthecompanytogoandgivesomeadvicetoBinet.

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