บทที่ บทที่ 4 · Part 1 Chapter Four

. Part 1 Chapter Four

The guests arrived early in carriages, in one-horse chaises, two-wheeled

cars, old open gigs, waggonettes with leather hoods, and the young

people from the nearer villages in carts, in which they stood up in

rows, holding on to the sides so as not to fall, going at a trot

and well shaken up. Some came from a distance of thirty miles, from

Goderville, from Normanville, and from Cany.

All the relatives of both families had been invited, quarrels between

friends arranged, acquaintances long since lost sight of written to.

From time to time one heard the crack of a whip behind the hedge; then

the gates opened, a chaise entered. Galloping up to the foot of the

steps, it stopped short and emptied its load. They got down from all

sides, rubbing knees and stretching arms. The ladies, wearing bonnets,

had on dresses in the town fashion, gold watch chains, pelerines with

the ends tucked into belts, or little coloured fichus fastened down

behind with a pin, and that left the back of the neck bare. The lads,

dressed like their papas, seemed uncomfortable in their new clothes

(many that day hand-sewed their first pair of boots), and by their

sides, speaking never a work, wearing the white dress of their first

communion lengthened for the occasion were some big girls of fourteen or

sixteen, cousins or elder sisters no doubt, rubicund, bewildered, their

hair greasy with rose pomade, and very much afraid of dirtying their

gloves. As there were not enough stable-boys to unharness all the

carriages, the gentlemen turned up their sleeves and set about it

themselves. According to their different social positions they wore

tail-coats, overcoats, shooting jackets, cutaway-coats; fine tail-coats,

redolent of family respectability, that only came out of the wardrobe

on state occasions; overcoats with long tails flapping in the wind and

round capes and pockets like sacks; shooting jackets of coarse

cloth, generally worn with a cap with a brass-bound peak; very short

cutaway-coats with two small buttons in the back, close together like

a pair of eyes, and the tails of which seemed cut out of one piece by a

carpenter’s hatchet. Some, too (but these, you may be sure, would sit at

the bottom of the table), wore their best blouses--that is to say,

with collars turned down to the shoulders, the back gathered into small

plaits and the waist fastened very low down with a worked belt.

And the shirts stood out from the chests like cuirasses! Everyone had

just had his hair cut; ears stood out from the heads; they had been

close-shaved; a few, even, who had had to get up before daybreak, and

not been able to see to shave, had diagonal gashes under their noses or

cuts the size of a three-franc piece along the jaws, which the fresh

air en route had enflamed, so that the great white beaming faces were

mottled here and there with red dabs.

The mairie was a mile and a half from the farm, and they went thither

on foot, returning in the same way after the ceremony in the church.

The procession, first united like one long coloured scarf that undulated

across the fields, along the narrow path winding amid the green corn,

soon lengthened out, and broke up into different groups that loitered to

talk. The fiddler walked in front with his violin, gay with ribbons at

its pegs. Then came the married pair, the relations, the friends, all

following pell-mell; the children stayed behind amusing themselves

plucking the bell-flowers from oat-ears, or playing amongst themselves

unseen. Emma’s dress, too long, trailed a little on the ground; from

time to time she stopped to pull it up, and then delicately, with her

gloved hands, she picked off the coarse grass and the thistledowns,

while Charles, empty handed, waited till she had finished. Old Rouault,

with a new silk hat and the cuffs of his black coat covering his hands

up to the nails, gave his arm to Madame Bovary senior. As to Monsieur

Bovary senior, who, heartily despising all these folk, had come simply

in a frock-coat of military cut with one row of buttons--he was passing

compliments of the bar to a fair young peasant. She bowed, blushed,

and did not know what to say. The other wedding guests talked of their

business or played tricks behind each other’s backs, egging one another

on in advance to be jolly. Those who listened could always catch the

squeaking of the fiddler, who went on playing across the fields. When

he saw that the rest were far behind he stopped to take breath, slowly

rosined his bow, so that the strings should sound more shrilly, then set

off again, by turns lowering and raising his neck, the better to mark

time for himself. The noise of the instrument drove away the little

birds from afar.

The table was laid under the cart-shed. On it were four sirloins, six

chicken fricassees, stewed veal, three legs of mutton, and in the middle

a fine roast suckling pig, flanked by four chitterlings with sorrel. At

the corners were decanters of brandy. Sweet bottled-cider frothed round

the corks, and all the glasses had been filled to the brim with wine

beforehand. Large dishes of yellow cream, that trembled with the least

shake of the table, had designed on their smooth surface the initials of

the newly wedded pair in nonpareil arabesques. A confectioner of Yvetot

had been intrusted with the tarts and sweets. As he had only just set up

on the place, he had taken a lot of trouble, and at dessert he himself

brought in a set dish that evoked loud cries of wonderment. To begin

with, at its base there was a square of blue cardboard, representing a

temple with porticoes, colonnades, and stucco statuettes all round, and

in the niches constellations of gilt paper stars; then on the second

stage was a dungeon of Savoy cake, surrounded by many fortifications

in candied angelica, almonds, raisins, and quarters of oranges; and

finally, on the upper platform a green field with rocks set in lakes of

jam, nutshell boats, and a small Cupid balancing himself in a chocolate

swing whose two uprights ended in real roses for balls at the top.

Until night they ate. When any of them were too tired of sitting, they

went out for a stroll in the yard, or for a game with corks in the

granary, and then returned to table. Some towards the finish went to

sleep and snored. But with the coffee everyone woke up. Then they began

songs, showed off tricks, raised heavy weights, performed feats with

their fingers, then tried lifting carts on their shoulders, made broad

jokes, kissed the women. At night when they left, the horses, stuffed

up to the nostrils with oats, could hardly be got into the shafts; they

kicked, reared, the harness broke, their masters laughed or swore;

and all night in the light of the moon along country roads there were

runaway carts at full gallop plunging into the ditches, jumping over

yard after yard of stones, clambering up the hills, with women leaning

out from the tilt to catch hold of the reins.

Those who stayed at the Bertaux spent the night drinking in the kitchen.

The children had fallen asleep under the seats.

The bride had begged her father to be spared the usual marriage

pleasantries. However, a fishmonger, one of their cousins (who had even

brought a pair of soles for his wedding present), began to squirt water

from his mouth through the keyhole, when old Rouault came up just in

time to stop him, and explain to him that the distinguished position

of his son-in-law would not allow of such liberties. The cousin all the

same did not give in to these reasons readily. In his heart he accused

old Rouault of being proud, and he joined four or five other guests in

a corner, who having, through mere chance, been several times running

served with the worst helps of meat, also were of opinion they had been

badly used, and were whispering about their host, and with covered hints

hoping he would ruin himself.

Madame Bovary, senior, had not opened her mouth all day. She had been

consulted neither as to the dress of her daughter-in-law nor as to the

arrangement of the feast; she went to bed early. Her husband, instead

of following her, sent to Saint-Victor for some cigars, and smoked till

daybreak, drinking kirsch-punch, a mixture unknown to the company. This

added greatly to the consideration in which he was held.

Charles, who was not of a facetious turn, did not shine at the wedding.

He answered feebly to the puns, _doubles entendres_,[6] compliments,

and chaff that it was felt a duty to let off at him as soon as the soup

appeared.

[6] Double meanings.

The next day, on the other hand, he seemed another man. It was he who

might rather have been taken for the virgin of the evening before,

whilst the bride gave no sign that revealed anything. The shrewdest did

not know what to make of it, and they looked at her when she passed

near them with an unbounded concentration of mind. But Charles

concealed nothing. He called her “my wife”, _tutoyéd_[7] her, asked for

her of everyone, looked for her everywhere, and often he dragged her

into the yards, where he could be seen from far between the trees,

putting his arm around her waist, and walking half-bending over her,

ruffling the chemisette of her bodice with his head.

[7] Used the familiar form of address.

Two days after the wedding the married pair left. Charles, on account of

his patients, could not be away longer. Old Rouault had them driven back

in his cart, and himself accompanied them as far as Vassonville. Here

he embraced his daughter for the last time, got down, and went his way.

When he had gone about a hundred paces he stopped, and as he saw the

cart disappearing, its wheels turning in the dust, he gave a deep sigh.

Then he remembered his wedding, the old times, the first pregnancy of

his wife; he, too, had been very happy the day when he had taken her

from her father to his home, and had carried her off on a pillion,

trotting through the snow, for it was near Christmas-time, and the

country was all white. She held him by one arm, her basket hanging from

the other; the wind blew the long lace of her Cauchois headdress so that

it sometimes flapped across his mouth, and when he turned his head he

saw near him, on his shoulder, her little rosy face, smiling silently

under the gold bands of her cap. To warm her hands she put them from

time to time in his breast. How long ago it all was! Their son would

have been thirty by now. Then he looked back and saw nothing on the

road. He felt dreary as an empty house; and tender memories mingling

with the sad thoughts in his brain, addled by the fumes of the feast, he

felt inclined for a moment to take a turn towards the church. As he was

afraid, however, that this sight would make him yet more sad, he went

right away home.

Monsieur and Madame Charles arrived at Tostes about six o’clock.

The neighbors came to the windows to see their doctor’s new wife.

The old servant presented herself, curtsied to her, apologised for not

having dinner ready, and suggested that madame, in the meantime, should

look over her house.