Madame Bovary - Page 235/262

"Ah! they are dining; I will wait."

He returned; she tapped at the window. He went out.

"The key! the one for upstairs where he keeps the--"

"What?"

And he looked at her, astonished at the pallor of her face, that stood

out white against the black background of the night. She seemed to

him extraordinarily beautiful and majestic as a phantom. Without

understanding what she wanted, he had the presentiment of something

terrible.

But she went on quickly in a love voice; in a sweet, melting voice, "I

want it; give it to me."

As the partition wall was thin, they could hear the clatter of the forks

on the plates in the dining-room.

She pretended that she wanted to kill the rats that kept her from

sleeping.

"I must tell master."

"No, stay!" Then with an indifferent air, "Oh, it's not worth while;

I'll tell him presently. Come, light me upstairs."

She entered the corridor into which the laboratory door opened. Against

the wall was a key labelled Capharnaum.

"Justin!" called the druggist impatiently.

"Let us go up."

And he followed her. The key turned in the lock, and she went straight

to the third shelf, so well did her memory guide her, seized the blue

jar, tore out the cork, plunged in her hand, and withdrawing it full of

a white powder, she began eating it.

"Stop!" he cried, rushing at her.

"Hush! someone will come."

He was in despair, was calling out.

"Say nothing, or all the blame will fall on your master."

Then she went home, suddenly calmed, and with something of the serenity

of one that had performed a duty.

When Charles, distracted by the news of the distraint, returned home,

Emma had just gone out. He cried aloud, wept, fainted, but she did not

return. Where could she be? He sent Felicite to Homais, to Monsieur

Tuvache, to Lheureux, to the "Lion d'Or," everywhere, and in the

intervals of his agony he saw his reputation destroyed, their fortune

lost, Berthe's future ruined. By what?--Not a word! He waited till six

in the evening. At last, unable to bear it any longer, and fancying she

had gone to Rouen, he set out along the highroad, walked a mile, met no

one, again waited, and returned home. She had come back.

"What was the matter? Why? Explain to me."

She sat down at her writing-table and wrote a letter, which she sealed

slowly, adding the date and the hour. Then she said in a solemn tone: "You are to read it to-morrow; till then, I pray you, do not ask me a

single question. No, not one!"