Page 404 - madame-bovary

CHAPTER EIGHT

he asked herself as she walked along, ‘What am I go-
Sing to say? How shall I begin?’ And as she went on she
recognised the thickets, the trees, the sea-rushes on the hill,
the chateau yonder. All the sensations of her first tender-
ness came back to her, and her poor aching heart opened
out amorously. A warm wind blew in her face; the melting
snow fell drop by drop from the buds to the grass.
She entered, as she used to, through the small park-
gate. She reached the avenue bordered by a double row of
dense lime-trees. They were swaying their long whispering
branches to and fro. The dogs in their kennels all barked,
and the noise of their voices resounded, but brought out no
one.
She went up the large straight staircase with wooden bal-
usters that led to the corridor paved with dusty flags, into
which several doors in a row opened, as in a monastery
or an inn. His was at the top, right at the end, on the left.
When she placed her fingers on the lock her strength sud-
denly deserted her. She was afraid, almost wished he would
not be there, though this was her only hope, her last chance
of salvation. She collected her thoughts for one moment,
and, strengthening herself by the feeling of present neces-
sity, went in.
He was in front of the fire, both his feet on the mantel-

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