Page 262 - madame-bovary

The moon, full and purple-coloured, was rising right
out of the earth at the end of the meadow. She rose quick-
ly between the branches of the poplars, that hid her here
and there like a black curtain pierced with holes. Then she
appeared dazzling with whiteness in the empty heavens
that she lit up, and now sailing more slowly along, let fall
upon the river a great stain that broke up into an infini-
ty of stars; and the silver sheen seemed to writhe through
the very depths like a heedless serpent covered with lumi-
nous scales; it also resembled some monster candelabra all
along which sparkled drops of diamonds running together.
The soft night was about them; masses of shadow filled the
branches. Emma, her eyes half closed, breathed in with deep
sighs the fresh wind that was blowing. They did not speak,
lost as they were in the rush of their reverie. The tenderness
of the old days came back to their hearts, full and silent as
the flowing river, with the softness of the perfume of the
syringas, and threw across their memories shadows more
immense and more sombre than those of the still willows
that lengthened out over the grass. Often some night-ani-
mal, hedgehog or weasel, setting out on the hunt, disturbed
the lovers, or sometimes they heard a ripe peach falling all
alone from the espalier.
‘Ah! what a lovely night!’ said Rodolphe.
‘We shall have others,’ replied Emma; and, as if speaking
to herself: ‘Yet, it will be good to travel. And yet, why should
my heart be so heavy? Is it dread of the unknown? The effect
of habits left? Or rather—? No; it is the excess of happiness.
How weak I am, am I not? Forgive me!’

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