Page 49 - madame-bovary

CHAPTER SIX

he had read ‘Paul and Virginia,’ and she had dreamed of
Sthe little bamboo-house, the nigger Domingo, the dog
Fiddle, but above all of the sweet friendship of some dear
little brother, who seeks red fruit for you on trees taller than
steeples, or who runs barefoot over the sand, bringing you
a bird’s nest.
When she was thirteen, her father himself took her to
town to place her in the convent. They stopped at an inn
in the St. Gervais quarter, where, at their supper, they used
painted plates that set forth the story of Mademoiselle de la
Valliere. The explanatory legends, chipped here and there
by the scratching of knives, all glorified religion, the tender-
nesses of the heart, and the pomps of court.
Far from being bored at first at the convent, she took
pleasure in the society of the good sisters, who, to amuse her,
took her to the chapel, which one entered from the refectory
by a long corridor. She played very little during recreation
hours, knew her catechism well, and it was she who always
answered Monsieur le Vicaire’s difficult questions. Living
thus, without every leaving the warm atmosphere of the
classrooms, and amid these pale-faced women wearing ro-
saries with brass crosses, she was softly lulled by the mystic
languor exhaled in the perfumes of the altar, the freshness
of the holy water, and the lights of the tapers. Instead of at-

Madame Bovary