Page 216 - madame-bovary

of these heights.
Then she recalled the heroines of the books that she had
read, and the lyric legion of these adulterous women began
to sing in her memory with the voice of sisters that charmed
her. She became herself, as it were, an actual part of these
imaginings, and realised the love-dream of her youth as she
saw herself in this type of amorous women whom she had
so envied. Besides, Emma felt a satisfaction of revenge. Had
she not suffered enough? But now she triumphed, and the
love so long pent up burst forth in full joyous bubblings. She
tasted it without remorse, without anxiety, without trouble.
The day following passed with a new sweetness. They
made vows to one another She told him of her sorrows. Ro-
dolphe interrupted her with kisses; and she looking at him
through half-closed eyes, asked him to call her again by
her name—to say that he loved her They were in the forest,
as yesterday, in the shed of some woodenshoe maker. The
walls were of straw, and the roof so low they had to stoop.
They were seated side by side on a bed of dry leaves.
From that day forth they wrote to one another regularly
every evening. Emma placed her letter at the end of the gar-
den, by the river, in a fissure of the wall. Rodolphe came to
fetch it, and put another there, that she always found fault
with as too short.
One morning, when Charles had gone out before day
break, she was seized with the fancy to see Rodolphe at
once. She would go quickly to La Huchette, stay there an
hour, and be back again at Yonville while everyone was still
asleep. This idea made her pant with desire, and she soon

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