第55章

Thenhecalledherbacktoshowherthreeyardsofguipurethathehadlatelypickedup“atasale。“

“Isn’titlovely？“saidLheureux。“Itisverymuchusednowforthebacksofarm-chairs。It’squitetherage。“

And，morereadythanajuggler，hewrappeduptheguipureinsomebluepaperandputitinEmma’shands。

“Butatleastletmeknow——“

“Yes，anothertime，“hereplied，turningonhisheel。

ThatsameeveningsheurgedBovarytowritetohismother，toaskhertosendasquicklyaspossiblethewholeofthebalanceduefromthefather’sestate。Themother-in-lawrepliedthatshehadnothingmore，thewindingupwasover，andtherewasduetothembesidesBarnevilleanincomeofsixhundredfrancs，thatshewouldpaythempunctually。

ThenMadameBovarysentinaccountstotwoorthreepatients，andshemadelargeuseofthismethod，whichwasverysuccessful。Shewasalwayscarefultoaddapostscript：“Donotmentionthistomyhusband；youknowhowproudheis。Excuseme。Yoursobediently。“Thereweresomecomplaints；sheinterceptedthem。

Togetmoneyshebegansellingheroldgloves，heroldhats，theoldoddsandends，andshebargainedrapaciously，herpeasantbloodstandingheringoodstead。Thenonherjourneytotownshepickedupnick-nackssecondhand，that，indefaultofanyoneelse，MonsieurLheureuxwouldcertainlytakeoffherhands。Sheboughtostrichfeathers，Chineseporcelain，andtrunks；sheborrowedfromFelicite，fromMadameLefrancois，fromthelandladyattheCroix-Rouge，fromeverybody，nomatterwhere。

WiththemoneysheatlastreceivedfromBarnevilleshepaidtwobills；theotherfifteenhundredfrancsfelldue。Sherenewedthebills，andthusitwascontinually。

Sometimes，itistrue，shetriedtomakeacalculation，butshediscoveredthingssoexorbitantthatshecouldnotbelievethempossible。Thensherecommenced，soongotconfused，gaveitallup，andthoughtnomoreaboutit。

Thehousewasverydrearynow。Tradesmenwereseenleavingitwithangryfaces。Handkerchiefswerelyingaboutonthestoves，andlittleBerthe，tothegreatscandalofMadameHomais，worestockingswithholesinthem。IfCharlestimidlyventuredaremark，sheansweredroughlythatitwasn’therfault。

Whatwasthemeaningofallthesefitsoftemper？Sheexplainedeverythingthroughheroldnervousillness，andreproachinghimselfwithhavingtakenherinfirmitiesforfaults，accusedhimselfofegotism，andlongedtogoandtakeherinhisarms。

“Ah，no!“hesaidtohimself；“Ishouldworryher。“

Andhedidnotstir。

Afterdinnerhewalkedaboutaloneinthegarden；hetooklittleBertheonhisknees，andunfoldinghismedicaljournal，triedtoteachhertoread。Butthechild，whoneverhadanylessons，soonlookedupwithlarge，sadeyesandbegantocry。Thenhecomfortedher；wenttofetchwaterinhercantomakeriversonthesandpath，orbrokeoffbranchesfromtheprivethedgestoplanttreesinthebeds。Thisdidnotspoilthegardenmuch，allchokednowwithlongweeds。TheyowedLestiboudoisforsomanydays。Thenthechildgrewcoldandaskedforhermother。

“Calltheservant，“saidCharles。“Youknow，dearie，thatmammadoesnotliketobedisturbed。“

Autumnwassettingin，andtheleaveswerealreadyfalling，astheydidtwoyearsagowhenshewasill。Wherewoul