Madame Bovary (Bantam Classics)
Gustave Flaubert
Language: English
Pages: 512
ISBN: 0553213415
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
This exquisite novel tells the story of one of the most compelling heroines in modern literature--Emma Bovary. Unhappily married to a devoted, clumsy provincial doctor, Emma revolts against the ordinariness of her life by pursuing voluptuous dreams of ecstasy and love. But her sensuous and sentimental desires lead her only to suffering corruption and downfall. A brilliant psychological portrait, Madame Bovary searingly depicts the human mind in search of transcendence. Who is Madame Bovary? Flaubert's answer to this question was superb: "Madame Bovary, c'est moi." Acclaimed as a masterpiece upon its publication in 1857, the work catapulted Flaubert to the ranks of the world's greatest novelists. This volume, with its fine translation by Lowell Bair, a perceptive introduction by Leo Bersani, and a complete supplement of essays and critical comments, is the indispensable Madame Bovary.
his story of the arsenic that she had mistaken for sugar in making a vanilla cream, Homais once more returned to Bovary’s. He found him alone (Monsieur Canivet had left), sitting in an armchair near the window, staring with an idiotic look at the flags of the floor. “Now,” said the chemist, “you ought yourself to fix the hour for the ceremony.” “Why? What ceremony?” Then, in a stammering, frightened voice, “Oh, no! not that. No! I want to see her here.” Homais, to keep himself in countenance,
and fathomless as the night. The gate suddenly grated. It was Lestiboudois ; he came to fetch his spade, that he had forgotten. He recognised Justin climbing over the wall, and at last knew who was the culprit who stole his potatoes. CHAPTER ELEVEN The next day Charles had the child brought back. She asked for her mamma. They told her she was away; that she would bring her back some playthings. Berthe spoke of her again several times, then at last thought no more of her. The child’s gaiety
quality of the soil, the minerals, the waters, the density of the different bodies, their capillarity, and what not. And one must be master of all the principles of hygiene in order to direct, criticise the construction of buildings, the feeding of animals, the diet of domestics. And, moreover, Madame Lefrançois, one must know botany, be able to distinguish between plants, you understand, which are the wholesome and those that are deleterious, which are unproductive and which nutritive, if it is
obsequious phrases. Of this the other took advantage to pull himself together a little. “Madame was speaking to me,” he then said, “about her health.” Charles interrupted him; he had indeed a thousand anxieties; his wife’s palpitations of the heart were beginning again. Then Rodolphe asked if riding would not be good. “Certainly! excellent! just the thing! There’s an idea! You ought to follow it up.” And as she objected that she had no horse, Monsieur Rodolphe offered one. She refused his
and her right arm stretched out, she gave herself up to the cadence of the movement that rocked her in her saddle. At the bottom of the hill Rodolphe gave his horse its head; they started together at a bound, then at the top suddenly the horses stopped, and her large blue veil fell about her. It was early in October. There was fog over the land. Hazy clouds hovered on the horizon between the outlines of the hills; others, rent asunder, floated up and disappeared. Sometimes through a rift in the
