Madame Bovary

For very weariness Charles left off going to the Bertaux. Heloise made

him swear, his hand on the prayer-book, that he would go there no more

after much sobbing and many kisses, in a great outburst of love. He

obeyed then, but the strength of his desire protested against the

servility of his conduct; and he thought, with a kind of naive

hypocrisy, that his interdict to see her gave him a sort of right to

love her. And then the widow was thin; she had long teeth; wore in all

weathers a little black shawl, the edge of which hung down between her

shoulder-blades; her bony figure was sheathed in her clothes as if they

were a scabbard; they were too short, and displayed her ankles with the

laces of her large boots crossed over grey stockings.

Charles's mother came to see them from time to time, but after a few

days the daughter-in-law seemed to put her own edge on her, and

then, like two knives, they scarified him with their reflections and

observations. It was wrong of him to eat so much.

Why did he always offer a glass of something to everyone who came?

What obstinacy not to wear flannels! In the spring it came about that a

notary at Ingouville, the holder of the widow Dubuc's property, one fine

day went off, taking with him all the money in his office. Heloise,

it is true, still possessed, besides a share in a boat valued at six

thousand francs, her house in the Rue St. Francois; and yet, with all

this fortune that had been so trumpeted abroad, nothing, excepting

perhaps a little furniture and a few clothes, had appeared in the

household. The matter had to be gone into. The house at Dieppe was found

to be eaten up with mortgages to its foundations; what she had placed

with the notary God only knew, and her share in the boat did not exceed

one thousand crowns. She had lied, the good lady! In his exasperation,

Monsieur Bovary the elder, smashing a chair on the flags, accused his

wife of having caused misfortune to the son by harnessing him to such

a harridan, whose harness wasn't worth her hide. They came to Tostes.

Explanations followed. There were scenes. Heloise in tears, throwing her

arms about her husband, implored him to defend her from his parents.

Charles tried to speak up for her. They grew angry and left the house.

But "the blow had struck home." A week after, as she was hanging up some

washing in her yard, she was seized with a spitting of blood, and

the next day, while Charles had his back turned to her drawing the

window-curtain, she said, "O God!" gave a sigh and fainted. She was

dead! What a surprise! When all was over at the cemetery Charles went

home. He found no one downstairs; he went up to the first floor to

their room; say her dress still hanging at the foot of the alcove; then,

leaning against the writing-table, he stayed until the evening, buried

in a sorrowful reverie. She had loved him after all!