Page 412 - madame-bovary

and fancying she had gone to Rouen, he set out along the
highroad, walked a mile, met no one, again waited, and re-
turned home. She had come back.
‘What was the matter? Why? Explain to me.’
She sat down at her writing-table and wrote a letter,
which she sealed slowly, adding the date and the hour. Then
she said in a solemn tone:
‘You are to read it to-morrow; till then, I pray you, do not
ask me a single question. No, not one!’
‘But—‘
‘Oh, leave me!’
She lay down full length on her bed. A bitter taste that
she felt in her mouth awakened her. She saw Charles, and
again closed her eyes.
She was studying herself curiously, to see if she were not
suffering. But no! nothing as yet. She heard the ticking of
the clock, the crackling of the fire, and Charles breathing as
he stood upright by her bed.
‘Ahl it is but a little thing, death!’ she thought. ‘I shall fall
asleep and all will be over.’
She drank a mouthful of water and turned to the wall.
The frightful taste of ink continued.
‘I am thirsty; oh! so thirsty,’ she sighed.
‘What is it?’ said Charles, who was handing her a glass.
‘It is nothing! Open the window; I am choking.’
She was seized with a sickness so sudden that she had
hardly time to draw out her handkerchief from under the
pillow.
‘Take it away,’ she said quickly; ‘throw it away.’

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