Part, Chapter

 1  I, 1  |       cinders.~When she had a child, it had to be sent out to
 2  I, 1  | isolation she centered on the child’s head all her shattered,
 3  I, 1  |  Bovary bit her lips, and the child knocked about the village.~
 4  I, 1  |     candle. It was close, the child fell asleep, and the good
 5  I, 1  |     that was to warm the poor child.~Then at the end of a week
 6  I, 2  |    you the doctor?” asked the child.~And on Charles’s answer
 7  I, 5  |       half-vexed, as you do a child who hangs about you.~Before
 8  I, 8  |    tied round his neck like a child, an old man sat eating,
 9 II, 3  |     idea of having begotten a child delighted him. Now he wanted
10 II, 3  |    this idea of having a male child was like an expected revenge
11 II, 3  |    door. He wished to see the child and thought it well made.~
12 II, 3  |    better.~Charles wanted the child to be called after her mother;
13 II, 3  |        insisted on having the child brought down, and began
14 II, 3  |      wooden shoe-pegs.~Emma’s child was asleep in a wicker-cradle.
15 II, 5  |     moist with happiness, the child crawling along the carpet,
16 II, 6  |       Her face frightened the child, who began to scream.~“Will
17 II, 6  |       alone to look after the child. Then watching her sleep,
18 II, 6  |  thought Emma, “how ugly this child is!”~When at eleven o’clock
19 II, 6  |     the neck.~“Good-bye, poor child! good-bye, dear little one!
20 II, 7  |       you far astray, my poor child. Anyone who has no religion
21 II, 8  |      he had been in bronze. A child in rags was holding him
22 II, 9  |      amuse little Berthe. The child blew her a kiss; her mother
23 II, 10 |       from the nurse where my child is.”~“Ah! very good! very
24 II, 10 |    one would have done a lost child, and she sometimes even
25 II, 10 |       warm, and she heard her child shouting with laughter.~
26 II, 10 |       How I love you, my poor child! How I love you!”~Then noticing
27 II, 12 |    bed and cried there like a child, her face buried in the
28 II, 12 |    the light breathing of his child. She would grow big now;
29 II, 12 |   bathed in sunshine. But the child began to cough in her cot
30 II, 12 |       was any allusion to the child. Rodolphe avoided speaking
31 II, 12 |     can’t exile myself—have a child on my hands.”~He was saying
32 II, 13 |    you. Teach my name to your child; let her repeat it in her
33 II, 13 |      girl! Oh, kiss her!”~The child stretched out her arms to
34 II, 14 |  expressions. She said to her child, “Is your stomach-ache better,
35 II, 14 | ringlets, it was to him, poor child! like a sudden entrance
36 II, 15 |       She was as pleased as a child to push with her finger
37 III, 1 |    doubt have trembled like a child; but here, at Rouen, on
38 III, 1 |       you!” he cried.~“What a child you are! Come, let us be
39 III, 1 |    the left, the one with the child is the Holy Virgin. Now
40 III, 1 |     Go and get me a cab!”~The child bounded off like a ball
41 III, 4 |     musical education of your child. For my own part, I think
42 III, 5 |     so much!”~She called him “child.” “Child, do you love me?”~
43 III, 5 |      She called him “child.” “Child, do you love me?”~And she
44 III, 5 |       and scarcely kissed the child. The dinner was not ready.
45 III, 5 | protesting by the head of her child that “nothing had passed
46 III, 6 |    teach her to read. But the child, who never had any lessons,
47 III, 6 |    for so many days. Then the child grew cold and asked for
48 III, 8 |     dying away.~“Bring me the child,” she said, raising herself
49 III, 8 |  asked Charles.~“No, no!”~The child, serious, and still half-asleep,
50 III, 8 |     am frightened!” cried the child, recoiling.~Emma took her
51 III, 8 |      her hand to kiss it; the child struggled.~“That will do.
52 III, 9 |    solace you.”~Weaker than a child, Charles let himself be
53 III, 10|      arms: “My girl! Emma! my child! tell me—”~The other replied,
54 III, 10|      between the pine-trees a child was on his knees weeping,
55 III, 11|      next day Charles had the child brought back. She asked
56 III, 11|   thought no more of her. The child’s gaiety broke Bovary’s
57 III, 11|      saw less and less of the child, Monsieur Homais not caring,
58 III, 11|    closely to the love of his child. She made him anxious, however,