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- Госпожа Бовари
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"
Ah
!
"
she
said
to
herself
,
"
he
carried
a
knife
in
his
pocket
like
a
peasant
.
"
The
hoar-frost
was
falling
,
and
they
turned
back
to
Yonville
.
In
the
evening
Madame
Bovary
did
not
go
to
her
neighbour
's
,
and
when
Charles
had
left
and
she
felt
herself
alone
,
the
comparison
re-began
with
the
clearness
of
a
sensation
almost
actual
,
and
with
that
lengthening
of
perspective
which
memory
gives
to
things
.
Looking
from
her
bed
at
the
clean
fire
that
was
burning
,
she
still
saw
,
as
she
had
down
there
,
Leon
standing
up
with
one
hand
behind
his
cane
,
and
with
the
other
holding
Athalie
,
who
was
quietly
sucking
a
piece
of
ice
.
She
thought
him
charming
;
she
could
not
tear
herself
away
from
him
;
she
recalled
his
other
attitudes
on
other
days
,
the
words
he
had
spoken
,
the
sound
of
his
voice
,
his
whole
person
;
and
she
repeated
,
pouting
out
her
lips
as
if
for
a
kiss
--
"
Yes
,
charming
!
charming
!
Is
he
not
in
love
?
"
she
asked
herself
;
"
but
with
whom
?
With
me
?
"
All
the
proofs
arose
before
her
at
once
;
her
heart
leapt
.
The
flame
of
the
fire
threw
a
joyous
light
upon
the
ceiling
;
she
turned
on
her
back
,
stretching
out
her
arms
.
Then
began
the
eternal
lamentation
:
"
Oh
,
if
Heaven
had
out
willed
it
!
And
why
not
?
What
prevented
it
?
"
When
Charles
came
home
at
midnight
,
she
seemed
to
have
just
awakened
,
and
as
he
made
a
noise
undressing
,
she
complained
of
a
headache
,
then
asked
carelessly
what
had
happened
that
evening
.
"
Monsieur
Leon
,
"
he
said
,
"
went
to
his
room
early
.
"
She
could
not
help
smiling
,
and
she
fell
asleep
,
her
soul
filled
with
a
new
delight
.
