madame bovary-第82章

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〃No；　I　don't　blame　you　now。〃

He　even　added　a　fine　phrase；　the　only　one　he　ever　made

〃It　is　the　fault　of　fatality！〃

Rodolphe；　who　had　managed　the　fatality；　thought　the　remark　very
offhand　from　a　man　in　his　position；　comic　even；　and　a　little
mean。

The　next　day　Charles　went　to　sit　down　on　the　seat　in　the　arbour。
Rays　of　light　were　straying　through　the　trellis；　the　vine　leaves
threw　their　shadows　on　the　sand；　the　jasmines　perfumed　the　air；
the　heavens　were　blue；　Spanish　flies　buzzed　round　the　lilies　in
bloom；　and　Charles　was　suffocating　like　a　youth　beneath　the　vague
love　influences　that　filled　his　aching　heart。

At　seven　o'clock　little　Berthe；　who　had　not　seen　him　all　the
afternoon；　went　to　fetch　him　to　dinner。

His　head　was　thrown　back　against　the　wall；　his　eyes　closed；　his
mouth　open；　and　in　his　hand　was　a　long　tress　of　black　hair。

〃Come　along；　papa；〃　she　said。

And　thinking　he　wanted　to　play；　she　pushed　him　gently。　He　fell　to
the　ground。　He　was　dead。

Thirty…six　hours　after；　at　the　druggist's　request；　Monsieur
Canivet　came　thither。　He　made　a　post…mortem　and　found　nothing。

When　everything　had　been　sold；　twelve　francs　seventy…five
centimes　remained；　that　served　to　pay　for　Mademoiselle　Bovary's
going　to　her　grandmother。　The　good　woman　died　the　same　year；　old
Rouault　was　paralysed；　and　it　was　an　aunt　who　took　charge　of　her。
She　is　poor；　and　sends　her　to　a　cotton…factory　to　earn　a　living。

Since　Bovary's　death　three　doctors　have　followed　one　another　at
Yonville　without　any　success；　so　severely　did　Homais　attack　them。
He　has　an　enormous　practice；　the　authorities　treat　him　with
consideration；　and　public　opinion　protects　him。

He　has　just　received　the　cross　of　the　Legion　of　Honour。






End