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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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- Стр. 55/303
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They
were
talking
of
a
troupe
of
Spanish
dancers
who
were
expected
shortly
at
the
Rouen
theatre
.
"
Are
you
going
?
"
she
asked
.
"
If
I
can
,
"
he
answered
.
Had
they
nothing
else
to
say
to
one
another
?
Yet
their
eyes
were
full
of
more
serious
speech
,
and
while
they
forced
themselves
to
find
trivial
phrases
,
they
felt
the
same
languor
stealing
over
them
both
.
It
was
the
whisper
of
the
soul
,
deep
,
continuous
,
dominating
that
of
their
voices
.
Surprised
with
wonder
at
this
strange
sweetness
,
they
did
not
think
of
speaking
of
the
sensation
or
of
seeking
its
cause
.
Coming
joys
,
like
tropical
shores
,
throw
over
the
immensity
before
them
their
inborn
softness
,
an
odorous
wind
,
and
we
are
lulled
by
this
intoxication
without
a
thought
of
the
horizon
that
we
do
not
even
know
.
In
one
place
the
ground
had
been
trodden
down
by
the
cattle
;
they
had
to
step
on
large
green
stones
put
here
and
there
in
the
mud
.
She
often
stopped
a
moment
to
look
where
to
place
her
foot
,
and
tottering
on
a
stone
that
shook
,
her
arms
outspread
,
her
form
bent
forward
with
a
look
of
indecision
,
she
would
laugh
,
afraid
of
falling
into
the
puddles
of
water
.
When
they
arrived
in
front
of
her
garden
,
Madame
Bovary
opened
the
little
gate
,
ran
up
the
steps
and
disappeared
.
Leon
returned
to
his
office
.
His
chief
was
away
;
he
just
glanced
at
the
briefs
,
then
cut
himself
a
pen
,
and
at
last
took
up
his
hat
and
went
out
.
He
went
to
La
Pature
at
the
top
of
the
Argueil
hills
at
the
beginning
of
the
forest
;
he
threw
himself
upon
the
ground
under
the
pines
and
watched
the
sky
through
his
fingers
.
"
How
bored
I
am
!
"
he
said
to
himself
,
"
how
bored
I
am
!
"
