Page 68 - madame-bovary

‘Dancing?’ repeated Emma.
‘Yes!’
‘Why, you must be mad! They would make fun of you;
keep your place. Besides, it is more becoming for a doctor,’
she added.
Charles was silent. He walked up and down waiting for
Emma to finish dressing.
He saw her from behind in the glass between two lights.
Her black eyes seemed blacker than ever. Her hair, undu-
lating towards the ears, shone with a blue lustre; a rose in
her chignon trembled on its mobile stalk, with artificial
dewdrops on the tip of the leaves. She wore a gown of pale
saffron trimmed with three bouquets of pompon roses
mixed with green.
Charles came and kissed her on her shoulder.
‘Let me alone!’ she said; ‘you are tumbling me.’
One could hear the flourish of the violin and the notes of
a horn. She went downstairs restraining herself from run-
ning.
Dancing had begun. Guests were arriving. There was
some crushing.
She sat down on a form near the door.
The quadrille over, the floor was occupied by groups of
men standing up and talking and servants in livery bear-
ing large trays. Along the line of seated women painted fans
were fluttering, bouquets half hid smiling faces, and gold
stoppered scent-bottles were turned in partly-closed hands,
whose white gloves outlined the nails and tightened on the
flesh at the wrists. Lace trimmings, diamond brooches, me-