Butbothhadfledintheirexasperation。Emmawasstampingherfeetassherepeated——
　　“Oh!whatmanners!Whatapeasant!“
　　Herantohismother；shewasbesideherself。Shestammered“Sheisaninsolent，giddy-headedthing，orperhapsworse!“
　　Andshewasforleavingatonceiftheotherdidnotapologise。
　　SoCharleswentbackagaintohiswifeandimploredhertogiveway；heknelttoher；sheendedbysaying——
　　“Verywell!I’llgotoher。“
　　Andinfactsheheldoutherhandtohermother-in-lawwiththedignityofamarchionessasshesaid——
　　“Excuseme，madame。“
　　Then，havinggoneupagaintoherroom，shethrewherselfflatonherbedandcriedtherelikeachild，herfaceburiedinthepillow。
　　SheandRodolphehadagreedthatintheeventofanythingextraordinaryoccurring，sheshouldfastenasmallpieceofwhitepapertotheblind，sothatifbychancehehappenedtobeinYonville，hecouldhurrytothelanebehindthehouse。Emmamadethesignal；shehadbeenwaitingthree-quartersofanhourwhenshesuddenlycaughtsightofRodolpheatthecornerofthemarket。Shefelttemptedtoopenthewindowandcallhim，buthehadalreadydisappeared。Shefellbackindespair。
　　Soon，however，itseemedtoherthatsomeonewaswalkingonthepavement。Itwashe，nodoubt。Shewentdownstairs，crossedtheyard。Hewasthereoutside。Shethrewherselfintohisarms。
　　“Dotakecare!“hesaid。
　　“Ah!ifyouknew!“shereplied。
　　Andshebegantellinghimeverything，hurriedly，disjointedly，exaggeratingthefacts，inventingmany，andsoprodigalofparenthesesthatheunderstoodnothingofit。
　　“Come，mypoorangel，courage!Becomforted!bepatient!“
　　“ButIhavebeenpatient；Ihavesufferedforfouryears。Alovelikeoursoughttoshowitselfinthefaceofheaven。Theytortureme!Icanbearitnolonger!Saveme!“
　　SheclungtoRodolphe。Hereyes，fulloftears，flashedlikeflamesbeneathawave；herbreastheaved；hehadneverlovedhersomuch，sothathelosthisheadandsaid“Whatis，it？Whatdoyouwish？“
　　“Takemeaway，“shecried，“carrymeoff!Oh，Iprayyou!“
　　Andshethrewherselfuponhismouth，asiftoseizetheretheunexpectedconsentifbreathedforthinakiss。
　　“But——“Rodolpheresumed。
　　“What？“
　　“Yourlittlegirl!“
　　Shereflectedafewmoments，thenreplied——
　　“Wewilltakeher!Itcan’tbehelped!“
　　“Whatawoman!“hesaidtohimself，watchingherasshewent。Forshehadrunintothegarden。Someonewascallingher。
　　OnthefollowingdaysMadameBovaryseniorwasmuchsurprisedatthechangeinherdaughter-in-law。Emma，infact，wasshowingherselfmoredocile，andevencarriedherdeferencesofarastoaskforarecipeforpicklinggherkins。
　　Wasitthebettertodeceivethemboth？Ordidshewishbyasortofvoluptuousstoicismtofeelthemoreprofoundlythebitternessofthethingsshewasabouttoleave？
　　Butshepaidnoheedtothem；onthecontrary，shelivedaslostintheanticipateddelightofhercominghappiness。
　　ItwasaneternalsubjectforconversationwithRodolphe。Sheleantonhisshouldermurmuring——
　　“Ah!whenweareinthemail-coach!Doyouthinkaboutit？Canitbe？ItseemstomethatthemomentIfeelthecarriagestart，itwillbeasifwewererisinginaballoon，asifweweresettingoutfortheclouds。DoyouknowthatIcountthehours？Andyou？“
　　NeverhadMadameBovarybeensobeautifulasatthisperiod；shehadthatindefinablebeautythatresultsfromjoy，fromenthusiasm，fromsuccess，andthatisonlytheharmonyoftemperamentwithcircumstances。Herdesires，hersorrows，theexperienceofpleasure，andherever-youngillusions，thathad，assoilandrainandwindsandthesunmakeflowersgrow，graduallydevelopedher，andsheatlengthblossomedforthinalltheplenitudeofhernature。Hereyelidsseemedchiselledexpresslyforherlongamorouslooksinwhichthepupildisappeared，whileastronginspirationexpandedherdelicatenostrilsandraisedthefleshycornerofherlips，shadedinthelightbyalittleblackdown。Onewouldhavethoughtthatanartistaptinconceptionhadarrangedthecurlsofhairuponherneck；theyfellinathickmass，negligently，andwiththechangingchancesoftheiradultery，thatunboundthemeveryday。
　　Hervoicenowtookmoremellowinfections，herfigurealso；
　　somethingsubtleandpenetratingescapedevenfromthefoldsofhergownandfromthelineofherfoot。Charles，aswhentheywerefirstmarried，thoughtherdeliciousandquiteirresistible。
　　Whenhecamehomeinthemiddleofthenight，hedidnotdaretowakeher。Theporcelainnight-lightthrewaroundtremblinggleamupontheceiling，andthedrawncurtainsofthelittlecotformedasitwereawhitehutstandingoutintheshade，andbythebedsideCharleslookedatthem。Heseemedtohearthelightbreathingofhischild。Shewouldgrowbignow；everyseasonwouldbringrapidprogress。Healreadysawhercomingfromschoolasthedaydrewin，laughing，withink-stainsonherjacket，andcarryingherbasketonherarm。Thenshewouldhavetobesenttotheboarding-school；thatwouldcostmuch；howwasittobedone？
　　Thenhereflected。Hethoughtofhiringasmallfarmintheneighbourhood，thathewouldsuperintendeverymorningonhiswaytohispatients。Hewouldsaveupwhathebroughtin；hewouldputitinthesavings-bank。Thenhewouldbuysharessomewhere，nomatterwhere；besides，hispracticewouldincrease；hecounteduponthat，forhewantedBerthetobewell-educated，tobeaccomplished，tolearntoplaythepiano。Ah!howprettyshewouldbelateronwhenshewasfifteen，when，resemblinghermother，shewould，likeher，wearlargestrawhatsinthesummer-time；fromadistancetheywouldbetakenfortwosisters。
　　Hepicturedhertohimselfworkingintheeveningbytheirsidebeneaththelightofthelamp；shewouldembroiderhimslippers；
　　shewouldlookafterthehouse；shewouldfillallthehomewithhercharmandhergaiety。Atlast，theywouldthinkofhermarriage；theywouldfindhersomegoodyoungfellowwithasteadybusiness；hewouldmakeherhappy；thiswouldlastforever。
　　Emmawasnotasleep；shepretendedtobe；andwhilehedozedoffbyhersidesheawakenedtootherdreams。
　　Tothegallopoffourhorsesshewascarriedawayforaweektowardsanewland，whencetheywouldreturnnomore。Theywentonandon，theirarmsentwined，withoutaword。Oftenfromthetopofamountaintheresuddenlyglimpsedsomesplendidcitywithdomes，andbridges，andships，forestsofcitrontrees，andcathedralsofwhitemarble，onwhosepointedsteepleswerestorks’nests。Theywentatawalking-pacebecauseofthegreatflag-stones，andonthegroundtherewerebouquetsofflowers，offeredyoubywomendressedinredbodices。Theyheardthechimingofbells，theneighingofmules，togetherwiththemurmurofguitarsandthenoiseoffountains，whoserisingsprayrefreshedheapsoffruitarrangedlikeapyramidatthefootofpalestatuesthatsmiledbeneathplayingwaters。Andthen，onenighttheycametoafishingvillage，wherebrownnetsweredryinginthewindalongthecliffsandinfrontofthehuts。Itwastherethattheywouldstay；theywouldliveinalow，flat-roofedhouse，shadedbyapalm-tree，intheheartofagulf，bythesea。Theywouldrowingondolas，swinginhammocks，andtheirexistencewouldbeeasyandlargeastheirsilkgowns，warmandstar-spangledasthenightstheywouldcontemplate。However，intheimmensityofthisfuturethatsheconjuredup，nothingspecialstoodforth；thedays，allmagnificent，resembledeachotherlikewaves；anditswayedinthehorizon，infinite，harmonised，azure，andbathedinsunshine。ButthechildbegantocoughinhercotorBovarysnoredmoreloudly，andEmmadidnotfallasleeptillmorning，whenthedawnwhitenedthewindows，andwhenlittleJustinwasalreadyinthesquaretakingdowntheshuttersofthechemist’sshop。
　　ShehadsentforMonsieurLheureux，andhadsaidtohim——
　　“Iwantacloak——alargelinedcloakwithadeepcollar。“
　　“Youaregoingonajourney？“heasked。
　　“No；but——nevermind。Imaycountonyou，mayInot，andquickly？“
　　Hebowed。
　　“Besides，Ishallwant，“shewenton，“atrunk——nottooheavy——
　　handy。“
　　“Yes，yes，Iunderstand。Aboutthreefeetbyafootandahalf，astheyarebeingmadejustnow。“
　　“Andatravellingbag。“
　　“Decidedly，“thoughtLheureux。“there’sarowonhere。“
　　“And，“saidMadameBovary，takingherwatchfromherbelt，“takethis；youcanpayyourselfoutofit。“
　　Butthetradesmancriedoutthatshewaswrong；theyknewoneanother；didhedoubther？Whatchildishness!