Page 316 - madame-bovary

counted the scales of the fishes and the button-holes of the
doublets, while his thoughts wandered off towards Emma.
The beadle, standing aloof, was inwardly angry at this
individual who took the liberty of admiring the cathedral
by himself. He seemed to him to be conducting himself in a
monstrous fashion, to be robbing him in a sort, and almost
committing sacrilege.
But a rustle of silk on the flags, the tip of a bonnet, a lined
cloak—it was she! Leon rose and ran to meet her.
Emma was pale. She walked fast.
‘Read!’ she said, holding out a paper to him. ‘Oh, no!’
And she abruptly withdrew her hand to enter the chapel
of the Virgin, where, kneeling on a chair, she began to pray.
The young man was irritated at this bigot fancy; then he
nevertheless experienced a certain charm in seeing her, in
the middle of a rendezvous, thus lost in her devotions, like
an Andalusian marchioness; then he grew bored, for she
seemed never coming to an end.
Emma prayed, or rather strove to pray, hoping that some
sudden resolution might descend to her from heaven; and
to draw down divine aid she filled full her eyes with the
splendours of the tabernacle. She breathed in the perfumes
of the full-blown flowers in the large vases, and listened to
the stillness of the church, that only heightened the tumult
of her heart.
She rose, and they were about to leave, when the beadle
came forward, hurriedly saying—
‘Madame, no doubt, does not belong to these parts? Ma-
dame would like to see the curiosities of the church?’

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