Page 39 - madame-bovary

one long coloured scarf that undulated across the fields,
along the narrow path winding amid the green corn, soon
lengthened out, and broke up into different groups that loi-
tered to talk. The fiddler walked in front with his violin, gay
with ribbons at its pegs. Then came the married pair, the
relations, the friends, all following pell-mell; the children
stayed behind amusing themselves plucking the bell-flow-
ers from oat-ears, or playing amongst themselves unseen.
Emma’s dress, too long, trailed a little on the ground; from
time to time she stopped to pull it up, and then delicately,
with her gloved hands, she picked off the coarse grass and
the thistledowns, while Charles, empty handed, waited till
she had finished. Old Rouault, with a new silk hat and the
cuffs of his black coat covering his hands up to the nails,
gave his arm to Madame Bovary senior. As to Monsieur
Bovary senior, who, heartily despising all these folk, had
come simply in a frock-coat of military cut with one row
of buttons—he was passing compliments of the bar to a fair
young peasant. She bowed, blushed, and did not know what
to say. The other wedding guests talked of their business or
played tricks behind each other’s backs, egging one another
on in advance to be jolly. Those who listened could always
catch the squeaking of the fiddler, who went on playing
across the fields. When he saw that the rest were far behind
he stopped to take breath, slowly rosined his bow, so that
the strings should sound more shrilly, then set off again, by
turns lowering and raising his neck, the better to mark time
for himself. The noise of the instrument drove away the lit-
tle birds from afar.

Madame Bovary