Page 439 - madame-bovary

she appeared to him dead. She was there; before his eyes, ly-
ing on her back in the middle of the road. He reined up, and
the hallucination disappeared.
At Quincampoix, to give himself heart, he drank three
cups of coffee one after the other. He fancied they had made
a mistake in the name in writing. He looked for the letter in
his pocket, felt it there, but did not dare to open it.
At last he began to think it was all a joke; someone’s
spite, the jest of some wag; and besides, if she were dead,
one would have known it. But no! There was nothing ex-
traordinary about the country; the sky was blue, the trees
swayed; a flock of sheep passed. He saw the village; he was
seen coming bending forward upon his horse, belabouring
it with great blows, the girths dripping with blood.
When he had recovered consciousness, he fell, weeping,
into Bovary’s arms: ‘My girl! Emma! my child! tell me—‘
The other replied, sobbing, ‘I don’t know! I don’t know!
It’s a curse!’
The druggist separated them. ‘These horrible details are
useless. I will tell this gentleman all about it. Here are the
people coming. Dignity! Come now! Philosophy!’
The poor fellow tried to show himself brave, and repeat-
ed several times. ‘Yes! courage!’
‘Oh,’ cried the old man, ‘so I will have, by God! I’ll go
along o’ her to the end!’
The bell began tolling. All was ready; they had to start.
And seated in a stall of the choir, side by side, they saw pass
and repass in front of them continually the three chanting
choristers.

Madame Bovary