Chapter 5
The brick front was just in a line with thestreet， or rather the road. Behind the door hung a cloak with a small collar， abridle， and a black leather cap， and on the floor， in a comer， were a pair ofleggings， still covered with dry mud. On the right was the one apartment，， thatwas both dining and sitting room. A canary yellow paper， relieved at the top bya garland of pale flowers， was puckered everywhere over the badly stretchedcanvas； white calico curtains with a red border hung crossways at the length ofthe window； and on the narrow mantelpiece a clock with a head of Hippocratesshone resplendent between two plate candlesticks under oval shades. On theother side of the passage was Charles's consultingroom， a little room about six paces wide， with a table， three chairs， and anoffice chair. Volumes of the Dictionary of Medical Science， uncut， but thebinding rather the worse for the successive sales through which they had gone，occupied almost along the six shelves of a deal bookcase. The smell of meltedbutter penetrated through the walls when he saw patients， just as in thekitchen one could hear the people coughing in the consulting room andrecounting their histories. Then， opening on the yard， where the stable was，came a large dilapidated room with a stove， now used as a wood-house， cellar，and pantry， full of old rubbish， of empty casks， agricultural implements pastservice， and a mass of dusty things whose use it was impossible to guess.
The garden， longer than wide， ran between twomud walls with espaliered apricots， to a hawthorn hedge that separated it fromthe field. In the middle was a slate sundial on a brick pedestal； four flowerbeds with eglantines surrounded symmetrically the more useful kitchen gardenbed. Right at the bottom， under the spruce bushes， was a curé in plaster reading his breviary.
Emma went upstairs. The first room was notfurnished， but in the second， which was their bedroom， was a mahogany bedsteadin an alcove with red drapery. A shell box adorned the chest of drawers， and onthe secretary near the window a bouquet of orange blossoms tied with whitesatin ribbons stood in a bottle. It was a bride'sbouquet； it was the other one's. She looked at it.Charles noticed it； he took it and carried it up to the attic， while Emmaseated in an arm-chair (they were putting her things down around her) thoughtof her bridal flowers packed up in a bandbox， and wondered， dreaming， whatwould be done with them if she were to die.
During the first days she occupied herself inthinking about changes in the house. She took the shades off the candlesticks，had new wallpaper put up， the staircase repainted， and seats made in the gardenround the sundial； she even inquired how she could get a basin with a jetfountain and fishes. Finally her husband， knowing that she liked to drive out，picked up a second-hand dogcart， which， with new lamps and splashboard instriped leather， looked almost like a tilbury.
He was happy then， and without a care in theworld. A meal together， a walk in the evening on the highroad， a gesture of herhands over her hair， the sight of her straw hat hanging from thewindow-fastener， and many another thing in which Charles had never dreamed ofpleasure， now made up the endless round of his happiness. In bed， in themorning， by her side， on the pillow， he watched the sunlight sinking into thedown on her fair cheek， half hidden by the lappets of her night-cap. Seen thusclosely， her eyes looked to him enlarged， especially when， on waking up， sheopened and shut them rapidly many times. Black in the shade， dark blue in broaddaylight， they had， as it were， depths of different colours， that， darker inthe centre， grew paler towards the surface of the eye. His own eyes lostthemselves in these depths； he saw himself in miniature down to the shoulders，with his handkerchief round his head and the top of his shirt open. He rose.She came to the window to see him off， and stayed leaning on the sill betweentwo pots of geranium， clad in her dressing gown hanging loosely about her.Charles， in the street buckled his spurs， his foot on the mounting stone， whileshe talked to him from above， picking with her mouth some scrap of flower orleaf that she blew out at him. Then this， eddying， floating， describedsemicircles in the air like a bird， and was caught before it reached the groundin the ill-groomed mane of the old white mare standing motionless at the door.Charles from horseback threw her a kiss； she answered with a nod； she shut thewindow， and he set off. And then along the highroad， spreading out its longribbon of dust， along the deep lanes that the trees bent over as in arbours，along paths where the corn reached to the knees， with the sun on his back andthe morning air in his nostrils， his heart full of the joys of the past night，his mind at rest， his flesh at ease， he went on， re-chewing his happiness， likethose who after dinner taste again the truffles which they are digesting.
Until now what good had he had of his life？His time at school， when he remained shut up within the high walls， alone， inthe midst of companions richer than he or cleverer at their work， who laughedat his accent， who jeered at his clothes， and whose mothers came to the schoolwith cakes in their muffs？ Later on， when he studied medicine， and never hadhis purse full enough to treat some little work-girl who would have become hismistress？ Afterwards， he had lived fourteen months with the widow， whose feetin bed were cold as icicles. But now he had for life this beautiful woman whomhe adored. For him the universe did not extend beyond the circumference of herpetticoat， and he reproached himself with not loving her. He wanted to see heragain； he turned back quickly， ran up the stairs with a beating heart. Emma， inher room， was dressing； he came up on tiptoe， kissed her back； she gave a cry.
He could not keep from constantly touchingher comb， her ring， her fichu； sometimes he gave her great sounding kisses withall his mouth on her cheeks， or else little kisses in a row all along her barearm from the tip of her fingers up to her shoulder， and she put him awayhalf-smiling， half-vexed， as you do a child who hangs about you.
Before marriage she thought herself in love；but the happiness that should have followed this love not having come， shemust， she thought， have been mistaken. And Emma tried to find out what onemeant exactly in life by the words felicity， passion， rapture， that had seemedto her so beautiful in books.
Chapter 6
She had read Paul and Virginia， and she haddreamed of the little bamboo-house， the nigger Domingo， the dog Fiddle， butabove all of the sweet friendship of some dear little brother， who seeks redfruit for you on trees taller than steeples， or who runs barefoot over thesand， bringing you a bird's nest.
When she was thirteen， her father himselftook her to town to place her in the convent. They stopped at an inn in the St.Gervais quarter， where， at their supper， they used painted plates that setforth the story of Mademoiselle de la Vallibre. The explanatory legends，chipped here and there by the scratching of knives， all glorified religion， thetendernesses of the heart， and the pomps of court.
Far from being bored at first at the convent，she took pleasure in the society of the good sisters， who， to amuse her， tookher to the chapel， which one entered from the refectory by a long corridor. Sheplayed very little during recreation hours， knew her catechism well， and it wasshe who always answered Monsieur le Vicaire's difficultquestions. Living thus， without every leaving the warm atmosphere of theclassrooms， and amid these pale-faced women wearing rosaries， with brass crosses，she was softly lulled by the mystic languor exhaled in the perfumes of thealtar， the freshness of the holy water， and the lights of the tapers. Insteadof attending to mass， she looked at the pious vignettes with their azureborders in her book， and she loved the sick lamb， the sacred heart pierced withsharp arrows， or the poor Jesus sinking beneath the cross he carries. Shetried， by way of mortification， to eat nothing a whole day. She puzzled herhead to find some vow to fulfil.
When she went to confession， she inventedlittle sins in order that she might stay there longer， kneeling in the shadow，her hands joined， her face against the grating beneath the whispering of thepriest. The comparisons of betrothed， husband， celestial lover， and eternalmarriage， that recur in sermons， stirred within her soul depths of unexpectedsweetness.