Amilefartherontheyhadtostoptomendwithsomestringthetracesthathadbroken。
　　ButCharles，givingalastlooktotheharness，sawsomethingonthegroundbetweenhishorse’slegs，andhepickedupacigar-casewithagreensilkborderandbeblazonedinthecentrelikethedoorofacarriage。
　　“Thereareeventwocigarsinit，“saidhe；“they’lldoforthiseveningafterdinner。“
　　“Why，doyousmoke？“sheasked。
　　“Sometimes，whenIgetachance。“
　　Heputhisfindinhispocketandwhippedupthenag。
　　Whentheyreachedhomethedinnerwasnotready。Madamelosthertemper。Nastasieansweredrudely。
　　“Leavetheroom!“saidEmma。“Youareforgettingyourself。Igiveyouwarning。“
　　Fordinnertherewasonionsoupandapieceofvealwithsorrel。
　　Charles，seatedoppositeEmma，rubbedhishandsgleefully。
　　“Howgooditistobeathomeagain!“
　　Nastasiecouldbeheardcrying。Hewasratherfondofthepoorgirl。Shehadformerly，duringthewearisometimeofhiswidowhood，kepthimcompanymanyanevening。Shehadbeenhisfirstpatient，hisoldestacquaintanceintheplace。
　　“Haveyougivenherwarningforgood？“heaskedatlast。
　　“Yes。Whoistopreventme？“shereplied。
　　Thentheywarmedthemselvesinthekitchenwhiletheirroomwasbeingmadeready。Charlesbegantosmoke。Hesmokedwithlipsprotruding，spittingeverymoment，recoilingateverypuff。
　　“You’llmakeyourselfill，“shesaidscornfully。
　　Heputdownhiscigarandrantoswallowaglassofcoldwateratthepump。Emmaseizingholdofthecigarcasethrewitquicklytothebackofthecupboard。
　　Thenextdaywasalongone。Shewalkedaboutherlittlegarden，upanddownthesamewalks，stoppingbeforethebeds，beforetheespalier，beforetheplastercurate，lookingwithamazementatallthesethingsofonce-on-a-timethatsheknewsowell。Howfarofftheballseemedalready!Whatwasitthatthussetsofarasunderthemorningofthedaybeforeyesterdayandtheeveningofto-day？HerjourneytoVaubyessardhadmadeaholeinherlife，likeoneofthosegreatcrevicesthatastormwillsometimesmakeinonenightinmountains。Stillshewasresigned。
　　Shedevoutlyputawayinherdrawersherbeautifuldress，downtothesatinshoeswhosesoleswereyellowedwiththeslipperywaxofthedancingfloor。Herheartwaslikethese。Initsfrictionagainstwealthsomethinghadcomeoveritthatcouldnotbeeffaced。
　　Thememoryofthisball，then，becameanoccupationforEmma。
　　WhenevertheWednesdaycameroundshesaidtoherselfassheawoke，“Ah!Iwasthereaweek——afortnight——threeweeksago。“
　　Andlittlebylittlethefacesgrewconfusedinherremembrance。
　　Sheforgotthetuneofthequadrilles；shenolongersawtheliveriesandappointmentssodistinctly；somedetailsescapedher，buttheregretremainedwithher。
　　ChapterNineOftenwhenCharleswasoutshetookfromthecupboard，betweenthefoldsofthelinenwhereshehadleftit，thegreensilkcigarcase。Shelookedatit，openedit，andevensmelttheodourofthelining——amixtureofverbenaandtobacco。Whosewasit？
　　TheViscount’s？Perhapsitwasapresentfromhismistress。Ithadbeenembroideredonsomerosewoodframe，aprettylittlething，hiddenfromalleyes，thathadoccupiedmanyhours，andoverwhichhadfallenthesoftcurlsofthepensiveworker。A
　　breathoflovehadpassedoverthestitchesonthecanvas；eachprickoftheneedlehadfixedthereahopeoramemory，andallthoseinterwoventhreadsofsilkwerebutthecontinuityofthesamesilentpassion。AndthenonemorningtheViscounthadtakenitawaywithhim。Ofwhathadtheyspokenwhenitlayuponthewide-mantelledchimneysbetweenflower-vasesandPompadourclocks？ShewasatTostes；hewasatParisnow，faraway!WhatwasthisParislike？Whatavaguename!Sherepeateditinalowvoice，forthemerepleasureofit；itranginherearslikeagreatcathedralbell；itshonebeforehereyes，evenonthelabelsofherpomade-pots。
　　Atnight，whenthecarrierspassedunderherwindowsintheircartssingingthe“Marjolaine，“sheawoke，andlistenedtothenoiseoftheiron-boundwheels，which，astheygainedthecountryroad，wassoondeadenedbythesoil。“Theywillbethereto-morrow!“shesaidtoherself。
　　Andshefollowedtheminthoughtupanddownthehills，traversingvillages，glidingalongthehighroadsbythelightofthestars。Attheendofsomeindefinitedistancetherewasalwaysaconfusedspot，intowhichherdreamdied。
　　SheboughtaplanofParis，andwiththetipofherfingeronthemapshewalkedaboutthecapital。Shewentuptheboulevards，stoppingateveryturning，betweenthelinesofthestreets，infrontofthewhitesquaresthatrepresentedthehouses。Atlastshewouldclosethelidsofherwearyeyes，andseeinthedarknessthegasjetsflaringinthewindandthestepsofcarriagesloweredwithmuchnoisebeforetheperistylesoftheatres。
　　Shetookin“LaCorbeille，“alady’sjournal，andthe“SylphedesSalons。“Shedevoured，withoutskippingawork，alltheaccountsoffirstnights，races，andsoirees，tookinterestinthedebutofasinger，intheopeningofanewshop。Sheknewthelatestfashions，theaddressesofthebesttailors，thedaysoftheBoisandtheOpera。InEugeneSueshestudieddescriptionsoffurniture；shereadBalzacandGeorgeSand，seekinginthemimaginarysatisfactionforherowndesires。Evenattableshehadherbookbyher，andturnedoverthepageswhileCharlesateandtalkedtoher。ThememoryoftheViscountalwaysreturnedassheread。Betweenhimandtheimaginarypersonagesshemadecomparisons。Butthecircleofwhichhewasthecentregraduallywidenedroundhim，andtheaureolethathebore，fadingfromhisform，broadenedoutbeyond，lightingupherotherdreams。
　　Paris，morevaguethantheocean，glimmeredbeforeEmma’seyesinanatmosphereofvermilion。Themanylivesthatstirredamidthistumultwere，however，dividedintoparts，classedasdistinctpictures。Emmaperceivedonlytwoorthreethathidfromheralltherest，andinthemselvesrepresentedallhumanity。Theworldofambassadorsmovedoverpolishedfloorsindrawingroomslinedwithmirrors，roundovaltablescoveredwithvelvetandgold-fringedcloths。Thereweredresseswithtrains，deepmysteries，anguishhiddenbeneathsmiles。Thencamethesocietyoftheduchesses；allwerepale；allgotupatfouro’clock；thewomen，poorangels，woreEnglishpointontheirpetticoats；andthemen，unappreciatedgeniusesunderafrivolousoutwardseeming，rodehorsestodeathatpleasureparties，spentthesummerseasonatBaden，andtowardsthefortiesmarriedheiresses。Intheprivateroomsofrestaurants，whereonesupsaftermidnightbythelightofwaxcandles，laughedthemotleycrowdofmenoflettersandactresses。Theywereprodigalaskings，fullofideal，ambitious，fantasticfrenzy。Thiswasanexistenceoutsidethatofallothers，betweenheavenandearth，inthemidstofstorms，havingsomethingofthesublime。Fortherestoftheworlditwaslost，withnoparticularplaceandasifnon-existent。Thenearerthingswere，moreover，themoreherthoughtsturnedawayfromthem。Allherimmediatesurroundings，thewearisomecountry，themiddle-classimbeciles，themediocrityofexistence，seemedtoherexceptional，apeculiarchancethathadcaughtholdofher，whilebeyondstretched，asfaraseyecouldsee，animmenselandofjoysandpassions。Sheconfusedinherdesirethesensualitiesofluxurywiththedelightsoftheheart，eleganceofmannerswithdelicacyofsentiment。Didnotlove，likeIndianplants，needaspecialsoil，aparticulartemperature？Signsbymoonlight，longembraces，tearsflowingoveryieldedhands，allthefeversofthefleshandthelanguorsoftendernesscouldnotbeseparatedfromthebalconiesofgreatcastlesfullofindolence，fromboudoirswithsilkencurtainsandthickcarpets，well-filledflower-stands，abedonaraiseddias，norfromtheflashingofpreciousstonesandtheshoulder-knotsofliveries。
　　Theladfromthepostinghousewhocametogroomthemareeverymorningpassedthroughthepassagewithhisheavywoodenshoes；
　　therewereholesinhisblouse；hisfeetwerebareinlistslippers。Andthiswasthegroominknee-britcheswithwhomshehadtobecontent!Hisworkdone，hedidnotcomebackagainallday，forCharlesonhisreturnputuphishorsehimself，unsaddledhimandputonthehalter，whiletheservant-girlbroughtabundleofstrawandthrewitasbestshecouldintothemanger。
　　ToreplaceNastasiewholeftTostessheddingtorrentsoftears
　　Emmatookintoherserviceayounggirloffourteen，anorphanwithasweetface。Sheforbadeherwearingcottoncaps，taughthertoaddressherinthethirdperson，tobringaglassofwateronaplate，toknockbeforecomingintoaroom，toiron，starch，andtodressher——wantedtomakealady’s-maidofher。Thenewservantobeyedwithoutamurmur，soasnottobesentaway；andasmadameusuallyleftthekeyinthesideboard，Feliciteeveryeveningtookasmallsupplyofsugarthatsheatealoneinherbedaftershehadsaidherprayers。
　　Sometimesintheafternoonshewenttochatwiththepostilions。
　　Madamewasinherroomupstairs。Sheworeanopendressinggownthatshowedbetweentheshawlfacingsofherbodiceapleatedchamisettewiththreegoldbuttons。Herbeltwasacordedgirdlewithgreattassels，andhersmallgarnetcolouredslippershadalargeknotofribbonthatfelloverherinstep。Shehadboughtherselfablottingbook，writingcase，pen-holder，andenvelopes，althoughshehadnoonetowriteto；shedustedherwhat-not，lookedatherselfintheglass，pickedupabook，andthen，dreamingbetweenthelines，letitdroponherknees。Shelongedtotravelortogobacktoherconvent。ShewishedatthesametimetodieandtoliveinParis。
　　Charlesinsnowandraintrottedacrosscountry。Heateomelettesonfarmhousetables，pokedhisarmintodampbeds，receivedthetepidspurtofblood-lettingsinhisface，listenedtodeath-rattles，examinedbasins，turnedoveragooddealofdirtylinen；buteveryeveninghefoundablazingfire，hisdinnerready，easy-chairs，andawell-dressedwoman，charmingwithanodouroffreshness，thoughnoonecouldsaywhencetheperfumecame，orifitwerenotherskinthatmadeodorousherchemise。