第20章

“Heisjustcoming，“heanswered。

Andinfactthedoorofthepresbyterygrated；AbbeBournisienappeared；thechildren，pell-mell，fledintothechurch。

“Theseyoungscamps!“murmuredthepriest，“alwaysthesame!“

Then，pickingupacatechismallinragsthathehadstruckwithisfoot，“Theyrespectnothing!“ButassoonashecaughtsightofMadameBovary，“Excuseme，“hesaid；“Ididnotrecogniseyou。“

Hethrustthecatechismintohispocket，andstoppedshort，balancingtheheavyvestrykeybetweenhistwofingers。

Thelightofthesettingsunthatfellfulluponhisfacepaledthelastingofhiscassock，shinyattheelbows，unravelledatthehem。Greaseandtobaccostainsfollowedalonghisbroadchestthelinesofthebuttons，andgrewmorenumerousthefarthertheywerefromhisneckcloth，inwhichthemassivefoldsofhisredchinrested；thiswasdottedwithyellowspots，thatdisappearedbeneaththecoarsehairofhisgreyishbeard。Hehadjustdinedandwasbreathingnoisily。

“Howareyou？“headded。

“Notwell，“repliedEmma；“Iamill。“

“Well，andsoamI，“answeredthepriest。“Thesefirstwarmdaysweakenonemostremarkably，don’tthey？But，afterall，weareborntosuffer，asSt。Paulsays。ButwhatdoesMonsieurBovarythinkofit？“

“He!“shesaidwithagestureofcontempt。

“What!“repliedthegoodfellow，quiteastonished，doesn’theprescribesomethingforyou？“

“Ah!“saidEmma，“itisnoearthlyremedyIneed。“

Butthecurefromtimetotimelookedintothechurch，wherethekneelingboyswereshoulderingoneanother，andtumblingoverlikepacksofcards。

“Ishouldliketoknow——“shewenton。

“Youlookout，Riboudet，“criedthepriestinanangryvoice；

“I’llwarmyourears，youimp!“ThenturningtoEmma，“He’sBoudetthecarpenter’sson；hisparentsarewelloff，andlethimdojustashepleases。Yethecouldlearnquicklyifhewould，forheisverysharp。AndsosometimesforajokeIcallhimRiboudet(liketheroadonetakestogotoMaromme)andIevensay’MonRiboudet。’Ha!Ha!’MontRiboudet。’TheotherdayI

repeatedthatjusttoMonsignor，andhelaughedatit；hecondescendedtolaughatit。AndhowisMonsieurBovary？“

Sheseemednottohearhim。Andhewenton——

“Alwaysverybusy，nodoubt；forheandIarecertainlythebusiestpeopleintheparish。Butheisdoctorofthebody，“headdedwithathicklaugh，“andIofthesoul。“

Shefixedherpleadingeyesuponthepriest。“Yes，“shesaid，“yousolaceallsorrows。“

“Ah!don’ttalktomeofit，MadameBovary。ThismorningIhadtogotoBas-Diauvilleforacowthatwasill；theythoughtitwasunderaspell。Alltheircows，Idon’tknowhowitis——Butpardonme!LonguemarreandBoudet!Blessme!Willyouleaveoff？“

Andwithaboundheranintothechurch。

Theboyswerejustthenclusteringroundthelargedesk，climbingovertheprecentor’sfootstool，openingthemissal；andothersontiptoewerejustabouttoventureintotheconfessional。Butthepriestsuddenlydistributedashowerofcuffsamongthem。Seizingthembythecollarsoftheircoats，heliftedthemfromtheground，anddepositedthemontheirkneesonthestonesofthechoir，firmly，asifhemeantplantingthemthere。

“Yes，“saidhe，whenhereturnedtoEmma，unfoldinghislargecottonhandkerchief，onecornerofwhichheputbetweenhisteeth，“farmersaremuchtobepitied。“

“Others，too，“shereplied。

“Assuredly。Town-labourers，forexample。“

“Itisnotthey——“

“Pardon!I’vethereknownpoormothersoffamilies，virtuouswomen，Iassureyou，realsaints，whowantedevenbread。“

“Butthose，“repliedEmma，andthecornersofhermouthtwitchedasshespoke，“those，MonsieurleCure，whohavebreadandhaveno——“

“Fireinthewinter，“saidthepriest。

“Oh，whatdoesthatmatter？“

“What!Whatdoesitmatter？Itseemstomethatwhenonehasfiringandfood——for，afterall——“

“MyGod!myGod!“shesighed。

“Itisindigestion，nodoubt？Youmustgethome，MadameBovary；

drinkalittletea，thatwillstrengthenyou，orelseaglassoffreshwaterwithalittlemoistsugar。“

“Why？“Andshelookedlikeoneawakingfromadream。

“Well，yousee，youwereputtingyourhandtoyourforehead。I

thoughtyoufeltfaint。“Then，bethinkinghimself，“Butyouwereaskingmesomething？Whatwasit？Ireallydon’tremember。“

“I？Nothing!nothing!“repeatedEmma。

Andtheglanceshecastroundherslowlyfellupontheoldmaninthecassock。Theylookedatoneanotherfacetofacewithoutspeaking。

“Then，MadameBovary，“hesaidatlast，“excuseme，butdutyfirst，youknow；Imustlookaftermygood-for-nothings。Thefirstcommunionwillsoonbeuponus，andIfearweshallbebehindafterall。SoafterAscensionDayIkeepthemrecta*anextrahoureveryWednesday。Poorchildren!OnecannotleadthemtoosoonintothepathoftheLord，as，moreover，hehashimselfrecommendedustodobythemouthofhisDivineSon。Goodhealthtoyou，madame；myrespectstoyourhusband。“

*Onthestraightandnarrowpath。

Andhewentintothechurchmakingagenuflexionassoonashereachedthedoor。

Emmasawhimdisappearbetweenthedoublerowofforms，walkingwithaheavytread，hisheadalittlebentoverhisshoulder，andwithhistwohandshalf-openbehindhim。

Thensheturnedonherheelallofonepiece，likeastatueonapivot，andwenthomewards。Buttheloudvoiceofthepriest，theclearvoicesoftheboysstillreachedherears，andwentonbehindher。

“AreyouaChristian？“

“Yes，IamaChristian。“

“WhatisaChristian？“

“Hewho，beingbaptized-baptized-baptized——“

Shewentupthestepsofthestaircaseholdingontothebanisters，andwhenshewasinherroomthrewherselfintoanarm-chair。

Thewhitishlightofthewindow-panesfellwithsoftundulations。

Thefurnitureinitsplaceseemedtohavebecomemoreimmobile，andtoloseitselfintheshadowasinanoceanofdarkness。Thefirewasout，theclockwentonticking，andEmmavaguelymarvelledatthiscalmofallthingswhilewithinherselfwassuchtumult。ButlittleBerthewasthere，betweenthewindowandthework-table，totteringonherknittedshoes，andtryingtocometohermothertocatchholdoftheendsofherapron-strings。

“Leavemealone，“saidthelatter，puttingherfromherwithherhand。

Thelittlegirlsooncameupcloseragainstherknees，andleaningonthemwithherarms，shelookedupwithherlargeblueeyes，whileasmallthreadofpuresalivadribbledfromherlipsontothesilkapron。

“Leavemealone，“repeatedtheyoungwomanquiteirritably。

Herfacefrightenedthechild，whobegantoscream。

“Willyouleavemealone？“shesaid，pushingherwithherelbow。

Berthefellatthefootofthedrawersagainstthebrasshandle，cuttinghercheek，whichbegantobleed，againstit。MadameBovarysprangtoliftherup，brokethebell-rope，calledfortheservantwithallhermight，andshewasjustgoingtocurseherselfwhenCharlesappeared。Itwasthedinner-hour；hehadcomehome。

“Look，dear!“saidEmma，inacalmvoice，“thelittleonefelldownwhileshewasplaying，andhashurtherself。“

Charlesreassuredher；thecasewasnotaseriousone，andhewentforsomestickingplaster。

MadameBovarydidnotgodownstairstothedining-room；shewishedtoremainalonetolookafterthechild。Thenwatchinghersleep，thelittleanxietyshefeltgraduallyworeoff，andsheseemedverystupidtoherself，andverygoodtohavebeensoworriedjustnowatsolittle。Berthe，infact，nolongersobbed。

Herbreathingnowimperceptiblyraisedthecottoncovering。Bigtearslayinthecornerofthehalf-closedeyelids，throughwhoselashesonecouldseetwopalesunkenpupils；theplasterstuckonhercheekdrewtheskinobliquely。