Page 292 - madame-bovary

where they made casks.
For fear of seeming ridiculous, Emma before going in
wished to have a little stroll in the harbour, and Bovary
prudently kept his tickets in his hand, in the pocket of his
trousers, which he pressed against his stomach.
Her heart began to beat as soon as she reached the ves-
tibule. She involuntarily smiled with vanity on seeing the
crowd rushing to the right by the other corridor while
she went up the staircase to the reserved seats. She was as
pleased as a child to push with her finger the large tapes-
tried door. She breathed in with all her might the dusty
smell of the lobbies, and when she was seated in her box she
bent forward with the air of a duchess.
The theatre was beginning to fill; opera-glasses were tak-
en from their cases, and the subscribers, catching sight of
one another, were bowing. They came to seek relaxation in
the fine arts after the anxieties of business; but ‘business’
was not forgotten; they still talked cottons, spirits of wine,
or indigo. The heads of old men were to be seen, inexpres-
sive and peaceful, with their hair and complexions looking
like silver medals tarnished by steam of lead. The young
beaux were strutting about in the pit, showing in the open-
ing of their waistcoats their pink or applegreen cravats, and
Madame Bovary from above admired them leaning on their
canes with golden knobs in the open palm of their yellow
gloves.
Now the lights of the orchestra were lit, the lustre, let
down from the ceiling, throwing by the glimmering of its
facets a sudden gaiety over the theatre; then the musicians

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