MadameBovaryhadopenedherwindowoverlookingthegardenandwatchedtheclouds。TheygatheredaroundthesunsetonthesideofRouenandthenswiftlyrolledbacktheirblackcolumns，behindwhichthegreatraysofthesunlookedoutlikethegoldenarrowsofasuspendedtrophy，whiletherestoftheemptyheavenswaswhiteasporcelain。Butagustofwindbowedthepoplars，andsuddenlytherainfell；itpatteredagainstthegreenleaves。
　　Thenthesunreappeared，thehensclucked，sparrowsshooktheirwingsinthedampthickets，andthepoolsofwateronthegravelastheyflowedawaycarriedoffthepinkflowersofanacacia。
　　“Ah!howfaroffhemustbealready!“shethought。
　　MonsieurHomais，asusual，cameathalf-pastsixduringdinner。
　　“Well，“saidhe，“sowe’vesentoffouryoungfriend!“
　　“Soitseems，“repliedthedoctor。Thenturningonhischair；
　　“Anynewsathome？“
　　“Nothingmuch。Onlymywifewasalittlemovedthisafternoon。
　　Youknowwomen——anothingupsetsthem，especiallymywife。Andweshouldbewrongtoobjecttothat，sincetheirnervousorganizationismuchmoremalleablethanours。“
　　“PoorLeon!“saidCharles。“HowwillheliveatParis？Willhegetusedtoit？“
　　MadameBovarysighed。
　　“Getalong!“saidthechemist，smackinghislips。“Theoutingsatrestaurants，themaskedballs，thechampagne——allthat’llbejollyenough，Iassureyou。“
　　“Idon’tthinkhe’llgowrong，“objectedBovary。
　　“NordoI，“saidMonsieurHomaisquickly；“althoughhe’llhavetodoliketherestforfearofpassingforaJesuit。Andyoudon’tknowwhatalifethosedogsleadintheLatinquarterwithactresses。Besides，studentsarethoughtagreatdealofinParis。Providedtheyhaveafewaccomplishments，theyarereceivedinthebestsociety；thereareevenladiesoftheFaubourgSaint-Germainwhofallinlovewiththem，whichsubsequentlyfurnishesthemopportunitiesformakingverygoodmatches。“
　　“But，“saidthedoctor，“Ifearforhimthatdownthere——“
　　“Youareright，“interruptedthechemist；“thatisthereverseofthemedal。Andoneisconstantlyobligedtokeepone’shandinone’spocketthere。Thus，wewillsupposeyouareinapublicgarden。Anindividualpresentshimself，welldressed，evenwearinganorder，andwhomonewouldtakeforadiplomatist。Heapproachesyou，heinsinuateshimself；offersyouapinchofsnuff，orpicksupyourhat。Thenyoubecomemoreintimate；hetakesyoutoacafe，invitesyoutohiscountry-house，introducesyou，betweentwodrinks，toallsortsofpeople；andthree-fourthsofthetimeit’sonlytoplunderyourwatchorleadyouintosomeperniciousstep。
　　“Thatistrue，“saidCharles；“butIwasthinkingespeciallyofillnesses——oftyphoidfever，forexample，thatattacksstudentsfromtheprovinces。“
　　Emmashuddered。
　　“Becauseofthechangeofregimen，“continuedthechemist，“andoftheperturbationthatresultstherefrominthewholesystem。
　　AndthenthewateratParis，don’tyouknow!Thedishesatrestaurants，allthespicedfood，endbyheatingtheblood，andarenotworth，whateverpeoplemaysayofthem，agoodsoup。Formyownpart，Ihavealwayspreferredplainliving；itismorehealthy。SowhenIwasstudyingpharmacyatRouen，Iboardedinaboardinghouse；Idinedwiththeprofessors。“
　　Andthushewenton，expoundinghisopinionsgenerallyandhispersonallikings，untilJustincametofetchhimforamulledeggthatwaswanted。
　　“Notamoment’speace!“hecried；“alwaysatit!Ican’tgooutforaminute!Likeaplough-horse，Ihavealwaystobemoilingandtoiling。Whatdrudgery!“Then，whenhewasatthedoor，“Bytheway，doyouknowthenews？“
　　“Whatnews？“
　　“Thatitisverylikely，“Homaiswenton，raisinghiseyebrowsandassumingoneofhismostseriousexpression，“thattheagriculturalmeetingoftheSeine-InferieurewillbeheldthisyearatYonville-l’Abbaye。Therumour，atallevents，isgoingtheround。Thismorningthepaperalludedtoit。Itwouldbeoftheutmostimportanceforourdistrict。Butwe’lltalkitoverlateron。Icansee，thankyou；Justinhasthelantern。“
　　ChapterSevenThenextdaywasadrearyoneforEmma。Everythingseemedtoherenvelopedinablackatmospherefloatingconfusedlyovertheexteriorofthings，andsorrowwasengulfedwithinhersoulwithsoftshriekssuchasthewinterwindmakesinruinedcastles。Itwasthatreveriewhichwegivetothingsthatwillnotreturn，thelassitudethatseizesyouaftereverythingwasdone；thatpain，infine，thattheinterruptionofeverywontedmovement，thesuddencessationofanyprolongedvibration，bringson。
　　AsonthereturnfromVaubyessard，whenthequadrilleswererunninginherhead，shewasfullofagloomymelancholy，ofanumbdespair。Leonreappeared，taller，handsomer，morecharming，morevague。Thoughseparatedfromher，hehadnotlefther；hewasthere，andthewallsofthehouseseemedtoholdhisshadow。
　　Shecouldnotdetachhereyesfromthecarpetwherehehadwalked，fromthoseemptychairswherehehadsat。Theriverstillflowedon，andslowlydroveitsripplesalongtheslipperybanks。
　　Theyhadoftenwalkedtheretothemurmurofthewavesoverthemoss-coveredpebbles。Howbrightthesunhadbeen!Whathappyafternoonstheyhadseenalongintheshadeattheendofthegarden!Hereadaloud，bareheaded，sittingonafootstoolofdrysticks；thefreshwindofthemeadowsettremblingtheleavesofthebookandthenasturtiumsofthearbour。Ah!hewasgone，theonlycharmofherlife，theonlypossiblehopeofjoy。Whyhadshenotseizedthishappinesswhenitcametoher？Whynothavekeptholdofitwithbothhands，withbothknees，whenitwasabouttofleefromher？AndshecursedherselffornothavinglovedLeon。Shethirstedforhislips。Thewishtookpossessionofhertorunafterandrejoinhim，throwherselfintohisarmsandsaytohim，“ItisI；Iamyours。“ButEmmarecoiledbeforehandatthedifficultiesoftheenterprise，andherdesires，increasedbyregret，becameonlythemoreacute。
　　HenceforththememoryofLeonwasthecentreofherboredom；itburnttheremorebrightlythanthefiretravellershaveleftonthesnowofaRussiansteppe。Shesprangtowardshim，shepressedagainsthim，shestirredcarefullythedyingembers，soughtallaroundheranythingthatcouldreviveit；andthemostdistantreminiscences，likethemostimmediateoccasions，whatsheexperiencedaswellaswhatsheimagined，hervoluptuousdesiresthatwereunsatisfied，herprojectsofhappinessthatcrackledinthewindlikedeadboughs，hersterilevirtue，herlosthopes，thedomestictete-a-tete——shegathereditallup，tookeverything，andmadeitallserveasfuelforhermelancholy。
　　Theflames，however，subsided，eitherbecausethesupplyhadexhausteditself，orbecauseithadbeenpileduptoomuch。Love，littlebylittle，wasquelledbyabsence；regretstifledbeneathhabit；andthisincendiarylightthathadempurpledherpaleskywasoverspreadandfadedbydegrees。Inthesupinenessofherconsciencesheeventookherrepugnancetowardsherhusbandforaspirationstowardsherlover，theburningofhateforthewarmthoftenderness；butasthetempeststillraged，andaspassionburntitselfdowntotheverycinders，andnohelpcame，nosunrose，therewasnightonallsides，andshewaslostintheterriblecoldthatpiercedher。
　　ThentheevildaysofTostesbeganagain。Shethoughtherselfnowfarmoreunhappy；forshehadtheexperienceofgrief，withthecertaintythatitwouldnotend。
　　Awomanwhohadlaidonherselfsuchsacrificescouldwellallowherselfcertainwhims。SheboughtaGothicprie-dieu，andinamonthspentfourteenfrancsonlemonsforpolishinghernails；
　　shewrotetoRouenforabluecashmeregown；shechoseoneofLheureux’sfinestscarves，andworeitknottedaroundherwaistoverherdressing-gown；and，withclosedblindsandabookinherhand，shelaystretchedoutonacouchinthisgarb。
　　Sheoftenchangedhercoiffure；shedidherhairalaChinoise，inflowingcurls，inplaitedcoils；shepartedinononesideandrolleditunderlikeaman’s。
　　ShewantedtolearnItalian；sheboughtdictionaries，agrammar，andasupplyofwhitepaper。Shetriedseriousreading，history，andphilosophy。SometimesinthenightCharleswokeupwithastart，thinkinghewasbeingcalledtoapatient。“I’mcoming，“
　　hestammered；anditwasthenoiseofamatchEmmahadstrucktorelightthelamp。Butherreadingfaredlikeherpieceofembroidery，allofwhich，onlyjustbegun，filledhercupboard；
　　shetookitup，leftit，passedontootherbooks。
　　Shehadattacksinwhichshecouldeasilyhavebeendriventocommitanyfolly。Shemaintainedoneday，inoppositiontoherhusband，thatshecoulddrinkoffalargeglassofbrandy，and，asCharleswasstupidenoughtodareherto，sheswallowedthebrandytothelastdrop。
　　InspiteofhervapourishairsasthehousewivesofYonvillecalledthem，Emma，allthesame，neverseemedgay，andusuallyshehadatthecornersofhermouththatimmobilecontractionthatpuckersthefacesofoldmaids，andthoseofmenwhoseambitionhasfailed。Shewaspaleallover，whiteasasheet；theskinofhernosewasdrawnatthenostrils，hereyeslookedatyouvaguely。Afterdiscoveringthreegreyhairsonhertemples，shetalkedmuchofheroldage。
　　Sheoftenfainted。Onedaysheevenspatblood，and，asCharlesfussedaroundhershowinghisanxiety——
　　“Bah!“sheanswered，“whatdoesitmatter？“
　　Charlesfledtohisstudyandweptthere，bothhiselbowsonthetable，sittinginanarm-chairathisbureauunderthephrenologicalhead。
　　Thenhewrotetohismotherbegginghertocome，andtheyhadmanylongconsultationstogetheronthesubjectofEmma。
　　Whatshouldtheydecide？Whatwastobedonesincesherejectedallmedicaltreatment？“Doyouknowwhatyourwifewants？“