Page 448 - madame-bovary

spectful tone of the letter deceived him.
‘Perhaps they loved one another platonically,’ he said to
himself.
Besides, Charles was not of those who go to the bottom
of things; he shrank from the proofs, and his vague jealousy
was lost in the immensity of his woe.
Everyone, he thought, must have adored her; all men as-
suredly must have coveted her. She seemed but the more
beautiful to him for this; he was seized with a lasting, furi-
ous desire for her, that inflamed his despair, and that was
boundless, because it was now unrealisable.
To please her, as if she were still living, he adopted her
predilections, her ideas; he bought patent leather boots
and took to wearing white cravats. He put cosmetics on his
moustache, and, like her, signed notes of hand. She corrupt-
ed him from beyond the grave.
He was obliged to sell his silver piece by piece; next
he sold the drawing-room furniture. All the rooms were
stripped; but the bedroom, her own room, remained as be-
fore. After his dinner Charles went up there. He pushed the
round table in front of the fire, and drew up her armchair.
He sat down opposite it. A candle burnt in one of the gilt
candlesticks. Berthe by his side was painting prints.
He suffered, poor man, at seeing her so badly dressed,
with laceless boots, and the arm-holes of her pinafore torn
down to the hips; for the charwoman took no care of her.
But she was so sweet, so pretty, and her little head bent for-
ward so gracefully, letting the dear fair hair fall over her
rosy cheeks, that an infinite joy came upon him, a happi-