Пані Боварі

Chapter 7

           ShewentasfarasthebeechesofBanneville,nearthedesertedpavilionwhichformsanangleofthewallonthesideofthecountry.Amidstthevegetationoftheditchtherearelongreedswithleavesthatcutyou.

           Shebeganbylookingroundhertoseeifnothinghadchangedsincelastshehadbeenthere.Shefoundagaininthesameplacesthefoxglovesandwallflowers,thebedsofnettlesgrowingroundthebigstones,andthepatchesoflichenalongthethreewindows,whoseshutters,alwaysclosed,wererottingawayontheirrustyironbars.Herthoughts,aimlessatfirst,wanderedatrandom,likehergreyhound,whoranroundandroundinthefields,yelpingaftertheyellowbutterflies,chasingtheshrew-mice,ornibblingthepoppiesontheedgeofacornfield.

           Thengraduallyherideastookdefiniteshape,and,sittingonthegrassthatshedugupwithlittleprodsofhersunshade,Emmarepeatedtoherself,"Goodheavens!WhydidImarry?"

           Sheaskedherselfifbysomeotherchancecombinationitwouldhavenotbeenpossibletomeetanotherman;andshetriedtoimaginewhatwouldhavebeentheseunrealisedevents,thisdifferentlife,thisunknownhusband.All,surely,couldnotbelikethisone.Hemighthavebeenhandsome,witty,distinguished,attractive,suchas,nodoubt,heroldcompanionsoftheconventhadmarried.Whatweretheydoingnow?Intown,withthenoiseofthestreets,thebuzzofthetheatresandthelightsoftheballroom,theywerelivingliveswheretheheartexpands,thesensesbourgeonout.

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