Page 269 - madame-bovary

‘Poor little woman!’ he thought with emotion. ‘She’ll
think me harder than a rock. There ought to have been some
tears on this; but I can’t cry; it isn’t my fault.’ Then, having
emptied some water into a glass, Rodolphe dipped his finger
into it, and let a big drop fall on the paper, that made a pale
stain on the ink. Then looking for a seal, he came upon the
one ‘Amor nel cor.’
‘That doesn’t at all fit in with the circumstances. Pshaw!
never mind!’
After which he smoked three pipes and went to bed.
The next day when he was up (at about two o’clock—he
had slept late), Rodolphe had a basket of apricots picked. He
put his letter at the bottom under some vine leaves, and at
once ordered Girard, his ploughman, to take it with care
to Madame Bovary. He made use of this means for corre-
sponding with her, sending according to the season fruits
or game.
‘If she asks after me,’ he said, ‘you will tell her that I have
gone on a journey. You must give the basket to her herself,
into her own hands. Get along and take care!’
Girard put on his new blouse, knotted his handkerchief
round the apricots, and walking with great heavy steps in
his thick iron-bound galoshes, made his way to Yonville.
Madame Bovary, when he got to her house, was arrang-
ing a bundle of linen on the kitchen-table with Felicite.
‘Here,’ said the ploughboy, ‘is something for you—from
the master.’
She was seized with apprehension, and as she sought in
her pocket for some coppers, she looked at the peasant with

Madame Bovary