14th-dunki | dusk-mean | meant-sketc | skirt-zigza
bold = Main text
Chapter grey = Comment text
1501 I | concealed her hair, a red skirt, grey stockings,~and an
1502 III| Aubain also took out the skirts, the~handkerchiefs, and
1503 IV | butcher-boy's~basket, received a slap, and from that time he always
1504 I | market-place. This house, with its~slate-covered roof, was built between
1505 V | the river and warmed the slated roof. Old Mother Simon had~
1506 III| with tears. The~city was sleeping; some customs officials
1507 II | the wind blew~away. The sleepy waves lapping the sand unfurled
1508 III| the ground, rolled up her sleeves and grasped her~bat; and
1509 III| recognised her darling by the slenderness of~her neck and her devout
1510 II | distance. Felicite would take slices of cold meat from the~lunch
1511 II | Madame Aubain finally slid into the ditch, after shoving
1512 IV | time to time she~turned slightly towards the bird.~ ~She
1513 II | her. She had just time to slip between two bars and the~
1514 IV | home, exhausted, with her slippers worn to~shreds, and despair
1515 V | silence; and the censers slipping on their chains were swung
1516 II | that way,~Trouville, on the slope of a hill below, grew larger
1517 III| hawsers. Presently the ground sloped abruptly, lights flitted
1518 II | built~in the centre of the sloping yard; and the sea looked
1519 V | against the~sides of the yard. Slowly the priest ascended the
1520 I | It communicated with a smaller room, in which~there were
1521 I | Vesta; and the whole room smelled musty,~as it was on a lower
1522 II | of marrying. She replied, smilingly, that it was~wrong of him
1523 II | the pole of a wagon and smoking his pipe, approached~her,
1524 II | brightly in~the sun and was as smooth as a mirror, and so calm
1525 III| coachman some~instructions, and smuggled six jars of jam, a dozen
1526 III| Bourais threw up his hands, sneezed, and then laughed uproariously;~
1527 III| the carriage, while~the snow fell in thick flakes. It
1528 III| lowered veils, formed a~snow-white field, and she recognised
1529 II | manner in which he took snuff, his whole person, in fact,~
1530 III| her own~wash; as she had soaked it the day before, she must
1531 IV | Nevertheless, he sought society; for on Sunday, when the
1532 II | poodle with him, whose paws soiled their furniture. In~spite
1533 III| Monsieur Popart had advised a sojourn~in Provence. Madame Aubain
1534 III| jug of cider and give the soldiers a drink. She nursed cholera~
1535 II | him at first, so he made solemn promises.~But, in a short
1536 IV | she lived in a sort of~somnambulistic torpor. The processions
1537 IV | on a pile of stones, and sopped her cheek with her~handkerchief;
1538 IV | of a cold, she caught a sore throat; and some time~later
1539 IV | rested on Fabu.~ ~She wept so sorely that her mistress said: "
1540 IV | fever grew worse. She was sorry that she could not do~anything
1541 II | sideboard was filled with all sorts of utensils,~plates, pitchers,
1542 IV | him!~ ~Nevertheless, he sought society; for on Sunday,
1543 III| Virginia~opened them; to souls like this the supernatural
1544 V | was still, and their shoes sounded like a herd of cattle~passing
1545 II | dismissed for a theft of thirty sous~which she did not commit.
1546 III| ought to have taken her South. Other doctors would~have
1547 III| the poor,~in a stable? The sowings, the harvests, the wine-presses,
1548 IV | glass eye, and lighted a spark in it which sent~Felicite
1549 II | distinguish its murmur; sparrows chirped joyfully and the~
1550 III| garden together, always speaking of Virginia, and~asking
1551 II | managed Madame's estates, he spent hours~with her in Monsieur'
1552 III| these things were beyond her sphere. Finally, one day, an old~
1553 IV | out, scattering refuse and spilling the water of his bath.~Madame
1554 III| ears of Felicite~who was spinning in the kitchen.~ ~They walked
1555 III| through that imagination which springs from true affection, she
1556 III| repeat the~same prayers, sprinkle holy water over the sheets,
1557 II | wearing a grey jacket and spurred boots.~ ~Both men brought
1558 IV | the pictures formed yellow~squares on the walls. They had taken
1559 III| of the harbour. Her~hull squeaked and the heavy waves beat
1560 III| born among the poor,~in a stable? The sowings, the harvests,
1561 III| the reading-desk; on one stained window of the side-aisle
1562 III| of the church, filled the stalls of the choir; the priest
1563 III| through the street, she would stand in the doorway~with a jug
1564 II | The outgoing tide exposed star-fish and sea-urchins, and~the
1565 III| drooping head,~inert hands and staring eyes she repeated at intervals:~ ~"
1566 IV | the vessel, and without~stating what she was sending, she
1567 III| two days he would take the steamer at Honfleur and join his
1568 III| front of the door and a nun stepped out. Felicite~put Virginia'
1569 II | trunks of the trees with a stick till they~resounded like
1570 III| inclined~toward her, and stiff curtains which were less
1571 III| enjoying the coolness and the~stillness of the church.~ ~As for
1572 IV | was unharmed. She felt a sting on her right cheek; when~
1573 III| Aubain, who was counting the stitches of her knitting, laid her~
1574 IV | to his home. "They have stolen~him," thought Felicite.~ ~
1575 IV | Saint-Melaine, in Mother Simon's store. She~rushed to the place.
1576 III| being buffeted by the same storm, perched on top~of a shattered
1577 III| from thirst, and when it stormed, she was~afraid he would
1578 IV | because~he remembered the storms in his native forests. The
1579 II | them; she bought them a stove,~some shirts and a blanket;
1580 III| at the inn, thinking that~strangers might bring her a letter.
1581 III| behind~and held on to the straps. But suddenly a thought
1582 I | Aubain sat all day in a straw armchair near~the window.
1583 III| the breeze wrinkled the stream, at the bottom~of which
1584 IV | likenesses~appeared even more striking on a coloured picture by
1585 III| Madame Aubain was tying the~strings of her bonnet. "Give me
1586 III| go to~sleep. At the first stroke of vespers, she would wake
1587 IV | thrusts to Felicite. Strange stubbornness of the bird which~would
1588 IV | was contracted, her lips stuck to her gums and she began
1589 III| extra~expense, but would stuff him so with food that he
1590 IV | Why don't you have him~stuffed?"~ ~She asked the advice
1591 I | that~it caused people to stumble. A narrow hall separated
1592 IV | to her: "My goodness, how stupid you are!" and she would
1593 II | who had become~singularly sturdy; she spoke also of their
1594 III| few days afterward a new sub-prefect was~nominated, the Baron
1595 III| approached the negro on the subject.~ ~Once even, she had said:~ ~"
1596 V | church.~Felicite's delirium subsided. By thinking of the procession,
1597 II | parents had purchased a substitute for him; but any day he
1598 III| relations.~ ~Victor went successively to Morlaix, to Dunkirk,
1599 III| days~she feared he would suffer from thirst, and when it
1600 III| either a~package of brown sugar, or soap, or brandy, and
1601 V | arrested one's eye. A golden sugar-bowl was crowned with violets,~
1602 IV | inn.~There were rumours of suicide, which were confirmed; doubts
1603 II | chemise, as she had no bathing suit, and afterwards her nurse
1604 II | preferred to wait for a~girl who suited him. She hung her head.
1605 II | hull of a ship, and the sultry breeze brought them~an odour
1606 IV | naturalist, from love of~the sumptuous, had gilded. She put him
1607 V | porcelain vases containing sun-flowers, lilies, peonies, and tufts
1608 III| grew pinched, the eyes were sunken. She kissed them~several
1609 II | their rooms. The~dazzling sunlight cast bars of light between
1610 II | around desolately until~sunrise. Then she went back to the
1611 II | Mademoiselle, who had grown to be "superb," and Paul, who had become~
1612 III| groans of agony. The Mother Superior was standing on the~right
1613 III| longitudes, and smiled with superiority at Felicite's~bewilderment.
1614 III| to souls like this the supernatural is always quite~simple.
1615 IV | eighty~francs. The garden supplied her with vegetables. As
1616 V | under a canopy of red velvet supported by four~men. A crowd of
1617 III| yard had been left open; supposing that burglars got in!" And~
1618 III| open until morning, and surely a~delay would annoy Madame,
1619 III| instantly, and the chief surgeon had~said:~ ~"Here goes another
1620 IV | did such accusations mean? Suspect a man like him of murder!
1621 IV | no proofs whatever, her suspicion~rested on Fabu.~ ~She wept
1622 II | solely, for the shock she had sustained~gave her a nervous affection,
1623 IV | tip of her umbrella and he swallowed the tip. Finally he got
1624 II | which separated it from the "Swamp," a~large meadow shaped
1625 III| that at night hovers over swamps, its breath that propels~
1626 V | foot of the hill.~ ~A cold sweat broke out on Felicite's
1627 II | sausages, a chicken fricassee, sweet cider, a fruit~tart and
1628 II | she would never see her sweetheart again; for, in~order to
1629 II | and~with their fore-sails swelled up like balloons they glided
1630 IV | once, and, rising like a swelling tide in her throat,~almost
1631 II | when the market was in full swing, there~appeared at the front
1632 III| chickens cackled, the captain swore and a~cabin-boy rested on
1633 II | laughed when~they saw a huge syringe. There was not a tree in
1634 II | till she started again, and~talked of the people whose estates
1635 IV | did not know what she was talking~about. At last she came
1636 II | appeared at the front door a tall, middle-aged peasant, with
1637 III| horizon from~the chateau of Tancarville to the lighthouses of Havre.
1638 I | Louis XV. style, stood a tapestry armchair. The~clock represented
1639 II | brought them~an odour of tar.~ ~The principal diversion
1640 II | fricassee, sweet cider, a fruit~tart and some preserved prunes;
1641 IV | notwithstanding his big whiskers and tattooings. On the~contrary, he rather
1642 IV | goose and a log, and these taunts were like so many~dagger
1643 IV | then in the~customs, and a tax collector, and having even
1644 V | with a large cross, the teacher in~charge of the boys and
1645 IV | time, Madame Lormeau was teasing him with~the tip of her
1646 I | The~clock represented a temple of Vesta; and the whole
1647 III| her two fists against~her temples.~ ~A long while afterward,
1648 IV | mats so as to adorn the temporary altars in the street.~ ~
1649 IV | monstrous and~inadmissible. Ten days later (the time to
1650 II | on another farm where she~tended the poultry; and as she
1651 III| Bourais, called on her and~tendered their sympathy.~ ~At first
1652 III| the lambs with~increased tenderness for the sake of the Lamb,
1653 III| In the garden there was a terrace, from~which the view extends
1654 IV | One morning during the terrible winter of 1837, when she
1655 III| trembling and drooling, would thank her in his~broken voice,
1656 II | quantities of apples. The thatched roofs, which were of unequal~
1657 III| was growing too old to~be thee-and-thou'd, a fact which seemed to
1658 II | finally dismissed for a theft of thirty sous~which she
1659 | themselves
1660 | thence
1661 III| while~the snow fell in thick flakes. It was almost night
1662 II | roofs, which were of unequal~thickness, looked like brown velvet
1663 I | hospital nurses.~ ~Her face was thin and her voice shrill. When
1664 III| feared he would suffer from thirst, and when it stormed, she
1665 IV | had at last, when he~was thirty-six years old, by a divine inspiration,
1666 | thou
1667 II | Virginia occupied her thoughts solely, for the shock she
1668 III| clumsy fingers broke the threads; she had no heart for~anything,
1669 IV | tried to nip his~enemy. Fabu threatened to ring his neck, although
1670 | throughout
1671 II | the old barn, catch birds, throw stones into the~ ~pond,
1672 III| mouth open and her head thrown back, beneath a black crucifix
1673 IV | affection. Loulou, having thrust his head into the butcher-boy'
1674 IV | were like so many~dagger thrusts to Felicite. Strange stubbornness
1675 IV | gathered on the~horizon and the thunder rumbled, Loulou would scream,
1676 II | obliterated her sadness.~ ~Every Thursday, friends of Madame Aubain
1677 II | Felicite~would invariably thwart their ruses and they held
1678 II | bars and the~huge animal, thwarted, paused.~ ~For years, this
1679 IV | he reproduced for her the tick-tack of the~spit in the kitchen,
1680 III| up, brush~his trousers, tie his cravat and walk to church
1681 III| chimney and dislodged the tiles on the roof, she~imagined
1682 II | plateau, where pastures and tilled fields~alternated. At the
1683 II | utensils,~plates, pitchers, tin bowls, wolf-traps. The children
1684 III| face had taken on a yellow tinge, the lips grew~blue, the
1685 III| devout attitude. The bell tinkled. All the heads bent~and
1686 III| handsome, had a good~figure, a tiny moustache, kind eyes, and
1687 IV | green, his head blue, the tips of~his wings were pink and
1688 IV | bath.~Madame Aubain grew tired of him and gave him to Felicite
1689 IV | golden.~ ~But he had the tiresome tricks of biting his perch,
1690 III| among negroes in a cloud of~tobacco. Could a person, in case
1691 III| bird as a remembrance and~a token of her esteem.~ ~Since a
1692 III| And at the same~time the tolling of Saint-Leonard's increased.~ ~
1693 III| and arrive at~Virginia's tomb. It was a small column of
1694 III| letter, started, and in a low tone~and with a searching look
1695 II | years, this occurrence was a topic of conversation in Pont-~
1696 II | a cottage that had been torn~down. The dilapidated wall-paper
1697 IV | a sort of~somnambulistic torpor. The processions of Corpus-Christi
1698 II | When she met him, he would torture~her with his fears and his
1699 IV | sale.~ ~For a moment she tottered, and had to sit down.~ ~
1700 III| gangplank.~ ~The packet, towed by singing women, glided
1701 III| Paradise, the Flood, the Tower of Babel, the blazing cities,~
1702 II | poor devil~employed at the town-hall, who sharpened his pocket-knife
1703 III| time, mechanically, she~toyed with the long knitting-needles
1704 II | dead trees whose branches~traced zigzags upon the blue sky.~ ~
1705 II | silence intensified~the tranquility of everything. In the distance,
1706 III| on~her mother's arm and treading the dead vine leaves. Sometimes
1707 IV | after her~death, her only treasure, Loulou. From Tuesday until
1708 III| they had~bled him too much, treating him for yellow fever. Four
1709 II | syringe. There was not a tree in the yard that did not~
1710 II | well, I will give you a trial."~ ~And half an hour later
1711 IV | But he had the tiresome tricks of biting his perch, pulling
1712 III| and blue, and a blackbird trilled in the~garden; everything
1713 II | comprised a leg of~mutton, tripe, sausages, a chicken fricassee,
1714 III| for months! His previous trips~had not alarmed her. One
1715 II | followed; the horses began to trot, the donkey to~gallop, and
1716 IV | black sabots and~her basket, trotted along nimbly in the middle
1717 III| would wake him up, brush~his trousers, tie his cravat and walk
1718 III| she put on her pattens and trudged the four miles that separated
1719 III| imagination which springs from true affection, she at~once became
1720 II | the~ ~pond, or pound the trunks of the trees with a stick
1721 III| understand it and did not even try.~The priest discoursed,
1722 II | the end of the field, were trying~to jump over the ditch.
1723 III| and left the room.~ ~Her tub and her board were on the
1724 III| hair, lacing her shoes, tucking~her in her bed, and the
1725 V | sun-flowers, lilies, peonies, and tufts of~hydrangeas. This mount
1726 III| inflamed eyelids,~and a tumour as big as his head on one
1727 III| the Calvary, instead of turning to the right, she~turned
1728 I | voice shrill. When she was twenty-five, she~looked forty. After
1729 III| vestibule and Madame Aubain was tying the~strings of her bonnet. "
1730 II | dinner-time and~brought an ugly poodle with him, whose paws
1731 IV | him with~the tip of her umbrella and he swallowed the tip.
1732 II | from her son because~it was unavoidable. Virginia brooded less and
1733 III| islands, were all lost in an uncertain~region at the very end of
1734 II | Gremanville, one of her uncles, who was ruined and lived
1735 IV | that she fell to the ground unconscious.~ ~Her first thought, when
1736 III| Madame Aubain's grief was uncontrollable. At first she rebelled~against
1737 IV | administered the~Extreme Unction. Afterwards she said that
1738 IV | Felicite for good.~ ~She undertook his education, and soon
1739 II | path led at first through undulating~grounds, and thence to a
1740 I | river. The interior was so unevenly graded that~it caused people
1741 II | sleepy waves lapping the sand unfurled themselves along the~shore
1742 III| honours, made her doubly unhappy, and she felt as if he were
1743 IV | open the~basket. Loulou was unharmed. She felt a sting on her
1744 IV | wings of the bird flapped in unison. When clouds gathered on
1745 III| equal importance; they were united in her~heart and their fate
1746 III| God, thinking that he was unjust to have taken away her child~--
1747 III| long~while she prayed, with uplifted eyes and a face wet with
1748 IV | he arrived, sitting bold upright on a branch which could
1749 III| sneezed, and then laughed uproariously;~such ignorance delighted
1750 IV | belongings! Felicite went~upstairs, overcome with grief.~ ~
1751 III| ruins of a pig-sty. The urchins peeped at him through the~
1752 III| decided to send her to~the Ursulines at Honfleur.~ ~The child
1753 II | filled with all sorts of utensils,~plates, pitchers, tin bowls,
1754 III| take~leave.~ ~Then Felicite uttered:~ ~"They have no sympathy,
1755 III| clasping it with her arms~and uttering groans of agony. The Mother
1756 V | CHAPTER V~The grass exhaled an odour
1757 III| coasting-vessel.~ ~It was vacation time and the arrival of
1758 V | fainter and~fainter, and vaguer, like a fountain giving
1759 I | relics of better~times and vanished luxury. On the second floor,
1760 V | high in~the air. A blue vapour rose in Felicite's room.
1761 IV | Onfroy,~the chemist, Monsieur Varin and Captain Mathieu, dropped
1762 V | candlesticks,~porcelain vases containing sun-flowers,
1763 IV | garden supplied her with vegetables. As for clothes, she~had
1764 II | and a mist hovered like a veil over the sinuosities of
1765 III| wreaths over their lowered veils, formed a~snow-white field,
1766 II | a~woman's saddle with a velveteen back to it, while on the
1767 III| devotion and a religious veneration.~ ~Her kind-heartedness
1768 III| hugged each other and giving vent to their grief in a~kiss
1769 IV | such~feats would give him vertigo. He became ill and was unable
1770 III| At the first stroke of vespers, she would wake him up,
1771 III| the harbour filled with vessels, and knocked against~hawsers.
1772 I | represented a temple of Vesta; and the whole room smelled
1773 IV | receive her confession in the vestry-room.~ ~Imaginary buzzings also
1774 III| drink. She nursed cholera~victims. She protected Polish refugees,
1775 III| At the end of the first vigil,~she noticed that the face
1776 III| arm and treading the dead vine leaves. Sometimes the sun,~
1777 IV | head to her~feet with such violence that she fell to the ground
1778 III| and she pulled the~knocker violently.~ ~After several minutes
1779 IV | medals, a~number of Holy Virgins, and a holy-water basin
1780 III| had turned and nobody was visible;--and on the ocean, silvered
1781 IV | seemed to~wake her up. She visited the neighbours to beg for
1782 III| asked leave to receive the~visits of her nephew Victor.~ ~
1783 IV | divine inspiration, found his vocation:~registrature! and he displayed
1784 V | moment~and then died away. A volley of musketry shook the window-panes.
1785 IV | her gums and she began to vomit; and~on the following day,
1786 III| had come~back from a long voyage, and with tears in his eyes
1787 IV | wings was broken and the wadding was coming out of his body.
1788 II | after she had received her~wages, she packed all her belongings
1789 II | fiercest~gales. But the wagon-shed was fast crumbling to ruins.
1790 I | a row against the white~wainscoting. An old piano, standing
1791 II | his left arm around her waist while they sauntered along.
1792 II | anxious and preferred to wait for a~girl who suited him.
1793 II | boat; a line of carts was waiting for them, and women~with
1794 IV | Bourais edged~along the wall, pushed his hat over his
1795 II | torn~down. The dilapidated wall-paper trembled in the drafts.
1796 II | called on the Lord, and wandered around desolately until~
1797 II | alley-way, spread out his wares on the sidewalk. Then the
1798 V | sun~shone on the river and warmed the slated roof. Old Mother
1799 II | No, no! not so fast," warned Felicite. Still they hurried
1800 III| suddenly remembered her own~wash; as she had soaked it the
1801 IV | placed by the cot and held a wash-basin, two combs, and a piece
1802 III| Felicite leaned forward to watch her, and~through that imagination
1803 II | principal diversion consisted in watching the return of the~fishing-smacks.
1804 III| with blossoms. Felicite watered~their leaves, renewed the
1805 IV | Victor had given her; also a watering-can and a~balloon, writing-books,
1806 II | sisters went their different ways; a~farmer took her in, and
1807 III| Virginia was growing weaker.~ ~A cough, continual fever,
1808 IV | a confused mass. Then a weakness came over her; the~misery
1809 II | his penmanship.~ ~When the weather was fine, they went to Geffosses.
1810 III| to bid him farewell, on Wednesday night, after Madame's dinner,~
1811 II | a woman wearing widow's weeds, and upon~questioning her,
1812 I | wasted of the loaf of bread weighing twelve pounds which was~
1813 IV | search when presently a light weight~dropped on her shoulder--
1814 II | Arabs in the desert, a whale being harpooned, etc.~ ~
1815 | whatever
1816 II | with the sharp sound of wheels on the cobble-~stones. About
1817 | whether
1818 IV | incident, he lifted his big whip and lashed her from her
1819 IV | galloping horses advanced like a whirlwind. When~he saw a woman in
1820 IV | notwithstanding his big whiskers and tattooings. On the~contrary,
1821 III| servant replied gently:~ ~"Why--from my nephew."~ ~"Oh,
1822 II | she met a woman wearing widow's weeds, and upon~questioning
1823 II | rabbits and run to pick~the wild flowers in the fields, and
1824 | will
1825 II | very much, but appeared so willing and so modest in her~requirements,
1826 II | beacons, they began to ply~to windward. The sails were lowered
1827 III| little cask of fine~Malaga wine, and Virginia, laughing
1828 III| sowings, the harvests, the wine-presses, all those~familiar things
1829 V | s forehead. Mother Simon wiped it~away with a cloth, saying
1830 IV | his cage, hanging to the wire bars with his head down.
1831 III| according to Madame Aubain's~wishes; she followed the hearse
1832 III| to~rush up to him, they withdrew the gangplank.~ ~The packet,
1833 V | The ringing of bells woke her; the people were coming
1834 II | plates, pitchers, tin bowls, wolf-traps. The children laughed when~
1835 IV | in the administration of woods and forests, he had at last,
1836 IV | over, Felicite replying by words that had no~greater meaning,
1837 I | to attend mass, and she worked without~interruption until
1838 I | resembled a wooden figure working~automatically.~
1839 III| referred. Thus, in 1825, workmen painted the vestibule; in~
1840 IV | corpse, he was eaten up by worms; one of his~wings was broken
1841 IV | Felicite's fever grew worse. She was sorry that she
1842 III| harmonious. And~Felicite worshipped devoutly, while enjoying
1843 III| organ the singers~and the worshippers struck up the Agnes Dei;
1844 II | braiding reeds; Felicite~wove lavender blossoms, while
1845 III| simple. She washed her, wrapped her in a shroud, put her
1846 III| and a great fear of His wrath. Then,~when she had listened
1847 III| into the~casket, laid a wreath of flowers on her head and
1848 III| meadows were empty, the breeze wrinkled the stream, at the bottom~
1849 IV | watering-can and a~balloon, writing-books, the engraved geography
1850 I | marble mantelpiece, in Louis XV. style, stood a tapestry
1851 II | meetings.~ ~They met in yards, behind walls or under isolated
1852 | yet
1853 IV | People thought that she was younger, because her hair, which
1854 II | trees whose branches~traced zigzags upon the blue sky.~ ~Ordinarily,
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