Page 226 - madame-bovary

so that their great love, which engrossed her life, seemed to
lessen beneath her like the water of a stream absorbed into
its channel, and she could see the bed of it. She would not
believe it; she redoubled in tenderness, and Rodolphe con-
cealed his indifference less and less.
She did not know if she regretted having yielded to him,
or whether she did not wish, on the contrary, to enjoy him
the more. The humiliation of feeling herself weak was turn-
ing to rancour, tempered by their voluptuous pleasures. It
was not affection; it was like a continual seduction. He sub-
jugated her; she almost feared him.
Appearances, nevertheless, were calmer than ever, Ro-
dolphe having succeeded in carrying out the adultery after
his own fancy; and at the end of six months, when the
spring-time came, they were to one another like a married
couple, tranquilly keeping up a domestic flame.
It was the time of year when old Rouault sent his turkey
in remembrance of the setting of his leg. The present always
arrived with a letter. Emma cut the string that tied it to the
basket, and read the following lines:—
‘My Dear Children—I hope this will find you well, and
that this one will be as good as the others. For it seems to
me a little more tender, if I may venture to say so, and heavi-
er. But next time, for a change, I’ll give you a turkeycock,
unless you have a preference for some dabs; and send me
back the hamper, if you please, with the two old ones. I have
had an accident with my cart-sheds, whose covering flew off
one windy night among the trees. The harvest has not been
overgood either. Finally, I don’t know when I shall come to