Part, Chapter

1  I, 2 |      the middle by a delicate lie that curved slightly with
2 II, 1 |     the verge of the horizon, lie the oaks of the forest of
3 II, 15|    happiness, no doubt, was a lie invented for the despair
4 III, 4|       the faculties of nature lie fallow. Besides, just think,
5 III, 6|  seeking it; everything was a lie. Every smile hid a yawn
6 III, 7| expected. Did she suspect the lie? He went on, blushing—~“
7 III, 8|     not got them.”~He did not lie. If he had had them, he
8 III, 8|     soul, and dissected every lie athwart all assertions and
9 III, 9|    for Bovary, to invent some lie that would conceal the poisoning,