Page 73 - madame-bovary

When she opened them again, in the middle of the draw-
ing room three waltzers were kneeling before a lady sitting
on a stool.
She chose the Viscount, and the violin struck up once
more.
Everyone looked at them. They passed and re-passed, she
with rigid body, her chin bent down, and he always in the
same pose, his figure curved, his elbow rounded, his chin
thrown forward. That woman knew how to waltz! They kept
up a long time, and tired out all the others.
Then they talked a few moments longer, and after the
goodnights, or rather good mornings, the guests of the cha-
teau retired to bed.
Charles dragged himself up by the balusters. His ‘knees
were going up into his body.’ He had spent five consecu-
tive hours standing bolt upright at the card tables, watching
them play whist, without understanding anything about it,
and it was with a deep sigh of relief that he pulled off his
boots.
Emma threw a shawl over her shoulders, opened the
window, and leant out.
The night was dark; some drops of rain were falling. She
breathed in the damp wind that refreshed her eyelids. The
music of the ball was still murmuring in her ears. And she
tried to keep herself awake in order to prolong the illusion
that this luxurious life that she would soon have to give up.
Day began to break. She looked long at the windows of
the chateau, trying to guess which were the rooms of all
those she had noticed the evening before. She would fain

Madame Bovary