Madame Bovary - Page 7/262

He understood nothing of it all; it was all very well to listen--he did

not follow. Still he worked; he had bound note-books, he attended all

the courses, never missed a single lecture. He did his little daily task

like a mill-horse, who goes round and round with his eyes bandaged, not

knowing what work he is doing.

To spare him expense his mother sent him every week by the carrier a

piece of veal baked in the oven, with which he lunched when he came back

from the hospital, while he sat kicking his feet against the wall.

After this he had to run off to lectures, to the operation-room, to the

hospital, and return to his home at the other end of the town. In the

evening, after the poor dinner of his landlord, he went back to his

room and set to work again in his wet clothes, which smoked as he sat in

front of the hot stove.

On the fine summer evenings, at the time when the close streets are

empty, when the servants are playing shuttle-cock at the doors, he

opened his window and leaned out. The river, that makes of this quarter

of Rouen a wretched little Venice, flowed beneath him, between the

bridges and the railings, yellow, violet, or blue. Working men, kneeling

on the banks, washed their bare arms in the water. On poles projecting

from the attics, skeins of cotton were drying in the air. Opposite,

beyond the roots spread the pure heaven with the red sun setting. How

pleasant it must be at home! How fresh under the beech-tree! And he

expanded his nostrils to breathe in the sweet odours of the country

which did not reach him.

He grew thin, his figure became taller, his face took a saddened look

that made it nearly interesting. Naturally, through indifference, he

abandoned all the resolutions he had made. Once he missed a lecture; the

next day all the lectures; and, enjoying his idleness, little by little,

he gave up work altogether. He got into the habit of going to the

public-house, and had a passion for dominoes. To shut himself up every

evening in the dirty public room, to push about on marble tables the

small sheep bones with black dots, seemed to him a fine proof of his

freedom, which raised him in his own esteem. It was beginning to see

life, the sweetness of stolen pleasures; and when he entered, he put

his hand on the door-handle with a joy almost sensual. Then many things

hidden within him came out; he learnt couplets by heart and sang them to

his boon companions, became enthusiastic about Beranger, learnt how to

make punch, and, finally, how to make love.