Page 270 - madame-bovary

haggard eyes, while he himself looked at her with amaze-
ment, not understanding how such a present could so move
anyone. At last he went out. Felicite remained. She could
bear it no longer; she ran into the sitting room as if to take
the apricots there, overturned the basket, tore away the
leaves, found the letter, opened it, and, as if some fearful
fire were behind her, Emma flew to her room terrified.
Charles was there; she saw him; he spoke to her; she heard
nothing, and she went on quickly up the stairs, breathless,
distraught, dumb, and ever holding this horrible piece of
paper, that crackled between her fingers like a plate of sheet-
iron. On the second floor she stopped before the attic door,
which was closed.
Then she tried to calm herself; she recalled the letter;
she must finish it; she did not dare to. And where? How?
She would be seen! ‘Ah, no! here,’ she thought, ‘I shall be
all right.’
Emma pushed open the door and went in.
The slates threw straight down a heavy heat that gripped
her temples, stifled her; she dragged herself to the closed
garret-window. She drew back the bolt, and the dazzling
light burst in with a leap.
Opposite, beyond the roofs, stretched the open country
till it was lost to sight. Down below, underneath her, the
village square was empty; the stones of the pavement glit-
tered, the weathercocks on the houses were motionless. At
the corner of the street, from a lower storey, rose a kind of
humming with strident modulations. It was Binet turning.
She leant against the embrasure of the window, and re-