madame bovary(包法利夫人)-第39章

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power　of　emphasis　than　of　real　singing；　made　up　the　charm　of　this
admirable　charlatan　nature；　in　which　there　was　something　of　the
hairdresser　and　the　toreador。
》From　the　first　scene　he　evoked　enthusiasm。　He　pressed　Lucy　in　his
arms；　he　left　her；　he　came　back；　he　seemed　desperate；　he　had
outbursts　of　rage；　then　elegiac　gurglings　of　infinite　sweetness；
and　the　notes　escaped　from　his　bare　neck　full　of　sobs　and　kisses。
Emma　leant　forward　to　see　him；　clutching　the　velvet　of　the　box
with　her　nails。　She　was　filling　her　heart　with　these　melodious
lamentations　that　were　drawn　out　to　the　accompaniment　of　the
double…basses；　like　the　cries　of　the　drowning　in　the　tumult　of　a
tempest。　She　recognised　all　the　intoxication　and　the　anguish　that
had　almost　killed　her。　The　voice　of　a　prima　donna　seemed　to　her
to　be　but　echoes　of　her　conscience；　and　this　illusion　that
charmed　her　as　some　very　thing　of　her　own　life。　But　no　one　on
earth　had　loved　her　with　such　love。　He　had　not　wept　like　Edgar
that　last　moonlit　night　when　they　said；　〃To…morrow！　to…morrow！〃
The　theatre　rang　with　cheers；　they　recommenced　the　entire
movement；　the　lovers　spoke　of　the　flowers　on　their　tomb；　of　vows；
exile；　fate；　hopes；　and　when　they　uttered　the　final　adieu；　Emma
gave　a　sharp　cry　that　mingled　with　the　vibrations　of　the　last
chords。
〃But　why；〃　asked　Bovary；　〃does　that　gentleman　persecute　her？〃
〃No；　no！〃　she　answered；　〃he　is　her　lover！〃
〃Yet　he　vows　vengeance　on　her　family；　while　the　other　one　who
came　on　before　said；　'I　love　Lucie　and　she　loves　me！'　Besides；　he
went　off　with　her　father　arm　in　arm。　For　he　certainly　is　her
father；　isn't　hethe　ugly　little　man　with　a　cock's　feather　in
his　hat？〃
Despite　Emma's　explanations；　as　soon　as　the　recitative　duet　began
in　which　Gilbert　lays　bare　his　abominable　machinations　to　his
master　Ashton；　Charles；　seeing　the　false　troth…ring　that　is　to
deceive　Lucie；　thought　it　was　a　love…gift　sent　by　Edgar。　He
confessed；　moreover；　that　he　did　not　understand　the　story　because
of　the　music；　which　interfered　very　much　with　the　words。
〃What　does　it　matter？〃　said　Emma。　〃Do　be　quiet！〃
〃Yes；　but　you　know；〃　he　went　on；　leaning　against　her　shoulder；　〃I
like　to　understand　things。〃
〃Be　quiet！　be　quiet！〃　she　cried　impatiently。
Lucie　advanced；　half　supported　by　her　women；　a　wreath　of　orange
blossoms　in　her　hair；　and　paler　than　the　white　satin　of　her　gown。
Emma　dreamed　of　her　marriage　day；　she　saw　herself　at　home　again
amid　the　corn　in　the　little　path　as　they　walked　to　the　church。
Oh；　why　had　not　she；　like　this　woman；　resisted；　implored？　She；　on
the　contrary；　had　been　joyous；　without　seeing　the　abyss　into
which　she　was　throwing　herself。　Ah！　if　in　the　freshness　of　her
beauty；　before　the　soiling　of　marriage　and　the　disillusions　of
adultery；　she　could　have　anchored　her　life　upon　some　great；
strong　heart；　then　virtue；　tenderness；　voluptuousness；　and　duty
blending；　she　would　never　have　fallen　from　so　high　a　happiness。
But　that　happiness；　no　doubt；　was　a　lie　invented　for　the　despair
of　all　desire。　She　now　knew　the　smallness　of　the　passions　that
art　exaggerated。　So；　striving　to　divert　her　thoughts；　Emma
determined　now　to　see　in　this　reproduction　of　her　sorrows　only　a
plastic　fantasy；　well　enough　to　please　the　eye；　and　she　even
smiled　internally　with　disdainful　pity　when　at　the　back　of　the
stage　under　the　velvet　hangings　a　man　appeared　in　a　black　cloak。
His　large　Spanish　hat　fell　at　a　gesture　he　made；　and　immediately
the　instruments　and　the　singers　began　the　sextet。　Edgar；　flashing
with　fury；　dominated　all　the　others　with　his　clearer　voice；
Ashton　hurled　homicidal　provocations　at　him　in　deep　notes；　Lucie
uttered　her　shrill　plaint；　Arthur　at　one　side；　his　modulated
tones　in　the　middle　register；　and　the　bass　of　the　minister　pealed
forth　like　an　organ；　while　the　voices　of　the　women　repeating　his
words　took　them　up　in　chorus　delightfully。　They　were　all　in　a　row
gesticulating；　and　anger；　vengeance；　jealousy；　terror；　and
stupefaction　breathed　forth　at　once　from　their　half…opened
mouths。　The　outraged　lover　brandished　his　naked　sword；　his
guipure　ruffle　rose　with　jerks　to　the　movements　of　his　chest；　and
he　walked　from　right　to　left　with　long　strides；　clanking　against
the　boards　the　silver…gilt　spurs　of　his　soft　boots；　widening　out
at　the　ankles。　He；　she　thought　must　have　an　inexhaustible　love
to　lavish　it　upon　the　crowd　with　such　effusion。　All　her　small
fault…findings　faded　before　the　poetry　of　the　part　that　absorbed
her；　and；　drawn　towards　this　man　by　the　illusion　of　the
character；　she　tried　to　imagine　to　herself　his　lifethat　life
resonant；　extraordinary；　splendid；　and　that　might　have　been　hers
if　fate　had　willed　it。　They　would　have　known　one　another；　loved
one　another。　With　him；　through　all　the　kingdoms　of　Europe　she
would　have　travelled　from　capital　to　capital；　sharing　his
fatigues　and　his　pride；　picking　up　the　flowers　thrown　to　him；
herself　embroidering　his　costumes。　Then　each　evening；　at　the　back
of　a　box；　behind　the　golden　trellis…work　she　would　have　drunk　in
eagerly　the　expansions　of　this　soul　that　would　have　sung　for　her
alone；　from　the　stage；　even　as　he　acted；　he　would　have　looked　at
her。　But　the　mad　idea　seized　her　that　he　was　looking　at　her；　it
was　certain。　She　longed　to　run　to　his　arms；　to　take　refuge　in　his
strength；　as　in　the　incarnation　of　love　itself；　and　to　say　to
him；　to　cry　out；　〃Take　me　away！　carry　me　with　you！　let　us　go！
Thine；　thine！　all　my　ardour　and　all　my　dreams！〃
The　curtain　fell。
The　smell　of　the　gas　mingled　with　that　of　the　breaths；　the　waving
of　the　fans；　made　the　air　more　suffocating。　Emma　wanted　to　go
out；　the　crowd　filled　the　corridors；　and　she　fell　back　in　her
arm…chair　with　palpitations　that　choked　her。　Charles；　fearing
that　she　would　faint；　ran　to　the　refreshment…room　to　get　a　glass
of　barley…water。
He　had　great　difficulty　in　getting　back　to　his　seat；　for　his
elbows　were　jerked　at　every　step　because　of　the　glass　he　held　in
his　hands；　and　he　even　spilt　three…fourths　on　the　shoulders　of　a
Rouen　lady　in　short　sleeves；　who　feeling　the　cold　liquid　running
down　to　her　loins；　uttered　cries　like　a　peacock；　as　if　she　were
being　assassinated。　Her　husband；　who　was　a　millowner；　railed　at
the　clumsy　fellow；　and　while　she　was　with　her　handkerchief　wiping
up　the　stains　from　her　handsome　cherry…coloured　taffeta　gown；　he
angrily　muttered　about　indemnity；　costs；　reimbursement。　At　last
Charles　reached　his　wife；　saying　to　her；　quite　out　of　breath
〃Ma　foi！　I　thought　I　should　have　had　to　stay　there。　There　is　such
a　crowdSUCH　a　crowd！〃
He　added
〃Just　guess　whom　I　met　up　there！　Monsieur　Leon！〃
〃Leon？〃
〃Himself！　He's　coming　along　to　pay　his　respects。〃　And　as　he
finished　these　words　the　ex…clerk　of　Yonville　entered　the　box。
He　held　out　his　hand　with　the　ease　of　a　gentleman；　and　Madame
Bovary　extended　hers；　without　doubt　obeying　the　attraction　of　a
stronger　will。　She　had　not　felt　it　since　that　spring　evening　when
the　rain　fell　upon　the　green　leaves；　and　they　had　said　good…bye
standing　at　the　window。　But　soon　recalling　herself　to　the
necessities　of　the　situation；　with　an　effort　she　shook　off　the
torpor　of　her　memories；　and　began　stammering　a　few　hurried　words。
〃Ah；　good…day！　What！　you　here？〃
〃Silence！〃　cried　a　voice　from　the　pit；　for　the　third　act　was
beginning。
〃So　you　are　at　Rouen？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃And　since　when？〃
〃Turn　them　out！　turn　them　out！〃　People　were　looking　at　them。　They
were　silent。
But　from　that　moment　she　listened　no　more；　and　the　chorus　of　the
guests；　the　scene　between　Ashton　and　his　servant；　the　grand　duet
in　D　major；　all　were　for　her　as　far　off　as　if　the　instruments　had
grown　less　sonorous　and　the　characters　more　remote。　She
remembered　the　games　at　cards　at　the　druggist's；　and　the　walk　to
the　nurse's；　the　reading　in　the　arbour；　the　tete…a…tete　by　the
firesideall　that　poor　love；　so　calm　and　so　protracted；　so
discreet；　so　tender；　and　that　she　had　nevertheless　forgotten。　And
why　had　he　come　back？　What　combination　of　circumstances　had
brought　him　back　into　her　life？　He　was　standing　behind　her；
leaning　with　his　shoulder　against　the　wall　of　the　box；　now　and
again　she　felt　herself　shuddering　beneath　the　hot　breath　from　his
nostrils　falling　upon　her　hair。
〃Does　this　amuse　you？〃　said　he；　bending　over　her　so　closely　that
the　end　of　his　moustache　brushed　her　cheek。　She　replied
carelessly
〃Oh；　dear　me；　no；　not　much。〃
Then　he　proposed　that　they　should　leave　the　theatre　and　go　and
take　an　ice　somewhere。
〃Oh；　not　yet；　let　us　stay；〃　said　Bovary。　〃Her　hair's　undone；　this
is　going　to　be　tragic。〃
But　the　mad　scene　did　not　at　all　interest　Emma；　and　the　acting　of
the　singer　seemed　to　her　exaggerated。
〃She　screams　too　loud；〃　said　she；　turning　to　Charles；　who　was
listening。
〃Yesa　little；〃　he　replied；　undecided　between　the　frankness　of
his　pleasure　and　his　respect　for　his　wife's　opinion。
Then　with　a　sigh　Leon　said
〃The　heat　is〃
〃Unbearable！　Yes！〃
〃Do　you　feel　unwell？〃　asked　Bovary。
〃Yes；　I　am　stifling；　let　us　go。〃
Monsieur　Leon　put　her　long　lace　shawl　carefully　about　her
shoulders；　and　all　three　went　off　to　sit　down　in　the　harbour；　in
the　open　air；　outside　the　windows　of　a　cafe。
First　they　spoke　of　her　illness；　although　Emma　interrupted
Charles　from　time　to　time；　for　fear；　she　said；　of　boring　Monsieur
Leon；　and　the　latter　told　them　that　he　had　come　to　spend　two
years　at　Rouen　in　a　large　office；　in　order　to　get　practice　in　his
profession；　which　was　different　in　Normandy　and　Paris。　Then　he
inquired　after　Berthe；　the　Homais；　Mere　Lefrancois；　and　as　they
had；　in　the　husband's　presence；　nothing　more　to　say　to　one
another；　the　conversation　soon　came　to　an　end。
People　coming　out　of　the　theatre　passed　along　the　pavement；
humming　or　shouting　at　the　top　of　their　voices；　〃O　bel　ange；　ma
Lucie！*〃　Then　Leon；　playing　the　dilettante；　began　to　talk　music。
He　had　seen　Tambourini；　Rubini；　Persiani；　Grisi；　and；　compared
with　them；　Lagardy；　despite　his　grand　outbursts；　was　nowhere。
*Oh　beautiful　angel；　my　Lucie。

〃Yet；〃　interrupted　Charles；　who　was　slowly　sipping　his
rum…sherbet；　〃they　say　that　he　is　quite　admirable　in　the　last
act。　I　regret　leaving　before　the　end；　because　it　was　beginning　to
amuse　me。〃
〃Why；〃　said　the　clerk；　〃he　will　soon　give　another　performance。〃
But　Charles　replied　that　they　were　going　back　next　day。　〃Unless；〃
he　added；　turning　to　his　wife；　〃you　would　like　to　stay　alone；
kitten？〃
And　changing　his　tactics　at　this　unexpected　opportunity　that
presented　itself　to　his　hopes；　the　young　man　sang　the　praises　of
Lagardy　in　the　last　number。　It　was　really　superb；　sublime。　Then
Charles　insisted
〃You　would　get　back　on　Sunday。　Come；　make　up　your　mind。　You　are
wrong　if　you　feel　that　this　is　doing　you　the　least　good。〃
The　tables　round　them；　however；　were　emptying；　a　waiter　came　and
stood　discreetly　near　them。　Charles；　who　understood；　took　out　his
purse；　the　clerk　held　back　his　arm；　and　did　not　forget　to　leave
two　more　pieces　of　silver　that　he　made　chink　on　the　marble。
〃I　am　really　sorry；〃　said　Bovary；　〃about　the　money　which　you
are〃
　The　other　made　a　careless　gesture　full　of　cordiality；　and　taking
his　hat　said
〃It　is　settled；　isn't　it？　To…morrow　at　six　o'clock？〃
Charles　explained　once　more　that　he　could　not　absent　himsel