"Master is waiting for you, madame; the soup is on the table."

And she had to go down to sit at table.

She tried to eat. The food choked her. Then she unfolded her napkin as

if to examine the darns, and she really thought of applying herself to

this work, counting the threads in the linen. Suddenly the remembrance

of the letter returned to her. How had she lost it? Where could she find

it? But she felt such weariness of spirit that she could not even invent

a pretext for leaving the table. Then she became a coward; she was

afraid of Charles; he knew all, that was certain! Indeed he pronounced

these words in a strange manner: "We are not likely to see Monsieur Rodolphe soon again, it seems."

"Who told you?" she said, shuddering.

"Who told me!" he replied, rather astonished at her abrupt tone. "Why,

Girard, whom I met just now at the door of the Cafe Francais. He has

gone on a journey, or is to go."

She gave a sob.

"What surprises you in that? He absents himself like that from time

to time for a change, and, ma foi, I think he's right, when one has a

fortune and is a bachelor. Besides, he has jolly times, has our friend.

He's a bit of a rake. Monsieur Langlois told me--"

He stopped for propriety's sake because the servant came in. She put

back into the basket the apricots scattered on the sideboard. Charles,

without noticing his wife's colour, had them brought to him, took one,

and bit into it.

"Ah! perfect!" said he; "just taste!"

And he handed her the basket, which she put away from her gently.

"Do just smell! What an odour!" he remarked, passing it under her nose

several times.

"I am choking," she cried, leaping up. But by an effort of will the

spasm passed; then-"It is nothing," she said, "it is nothing! It is nervousness. Sit down

and go on eating." For she dreaded lest he should begin questioning her,

attending to her, that she should not be left alone.

Charles, to obey her, sat down again, and he spat the stones of the

apricots into his hands, afterwards putting them on his plate.

Suddenly a blue tilbury passed across the square at a rapid trot. Emma

uttered a cry and fell back rigid to the ground.

In fact, Rodolphe, after many reflections, had decided to set out for

Rouen. Now, as from La Huchette to Buchy there is no other way than by

Yonville, he had to go through the village, and Emma had recognised him

by the rays of the lanterns, which like lightning flashed through the

twilight.




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