Page 445 - madame-bovary
P. 445
On the grave between the pine-trees a child was on his
knees weeping, and his heart, rent by sobs, was beating in
the shadow beneath the load of an immense regret, sweet-
er than the moon and fathomless as the night. The gate
suddenly grated. It was Lestiboudois; he came to fetch his
spade, that he had forgotten. He recognised Justin climb-
ing over the wall, and at last knew who was the culprit who
stole his potatoes.
Madame Bovary
