Page 398 - madame-bovary

in the hate that was choking her.
When she saw her house a numbness came over her. She
could not go on; and yet she must. Besides, whither could
she flee?
Felicite was waiting for her at the door. ‘Well?’
‘No!’ said Emma.
And for a quarter of an hour the two of them went
over the various persons in Yonville who might perhaps
be inclined to help her. But each time that Felicite named
someone Emma replied—
‘Impossible! they will not!’
‘And the master’ll soon be in.’
‘I know that well enough. Leave me alone.’
She had tried everything; there was nothing more to be
done now; and when Charles came in she would have to say
to him—
‘Go away! This carpet on which you are walking is no
longer ours. In your own house you do not possess a chair, a
pin, a straw, and it is I, poor man, who have ruined you.’
Then there would be a great sob; next he would weep
abundantly, and at last, the surprise past, he would forgive
her.
‘Yes,’ she murmured, grinding her teeth, ‘he will forgive
me, he who would give a million if I would forgive him for
having known me! Never! never!’
This thought of Bovary’s superiority to her exasper-
ated her. Then, whether she confessed or did not confess,
presently, immediately, to-morrow, he would know the ca-
tastrophe all the same; so she must wait for this horrible