Page 245 - madame-bovary

in all the evil ironies of triumphant adultery. The memory
of her lover came back to her with dazzling attractions; she
threw her whole soul into it, borne away towards this im-
age with a fresh enthusiasm; and Charles seemed to her as
much removed from her life, as absent forever, as impossi-
ble and annihilated, as if he had been about to die and were
passing under her eyes.
There was a sound of steps on the pavement. Charles
looked up, and through the lowered blinds he saw at the
corner of the market in the broad sunshine Dr. Canivet,
who was wiping his brow with his handkerchief. Homais,
behind him, was carrying a large red box in his hand, and
both were going towards the chemist’s.
Then with a feeling of sudden tenderness and
discouragement Charles turned to his wife saying to her—
‘Oh, kiss me, my own!’
‘Leave me!’ she said, red with anger.
‘What is the matter?’ he asked, stupefied. ‘Be calm;
compose yourself. You know well enough that I love you.
Come!’
‘Enough!’ she cried with a terrible look.
And escaping from the room, Emma closed the door so
violently that the barometer fell from the wall and smashed
on the floor.
Charles sank back into his arm-chair overwhelmed, try-
ing to discover what could be wrong with her, fancying
some nervous illness, weeping, and vaguely feeling some-
thing fatal and incomprehensible whirling round him.
When Rodolphe came to the garden that evening, he

Madame Bovary