pg200-300
See Sources for some of my sources of info on the Charabanc and Chaise.
Vocabulary:
- barouche
- Hirondelle
- coach
- stagecoach
- overnight bay
- gig
- carriage
- tilbury
- coachman
- nag
- cab
- gallop
- trot
- canter
Selected passages with some mention of travel:
Part 2, Ch 13:
Suddenly a blue tilbury crossed the square at a smart
trot. Emma gave a cry, fell abruptly backwards and lay on
the floor.
Rodolphe had decided, after a good deal of thought, to
leave for Rouen. Since the Yonville road was the only route
from La Huchette to Buchy, he had to pass through the village,
and Emma had recognized him in the glow of his carriage
lights as they flashed in the gathering dusk like a streak of
lightning.
Part 2 Ch 11:
It was quite an event in the village, that mid-thigh
amputation by Doctor Canivet! All the citizens rose early
that morning, and the Grande-Rue, thronged though it was, had
something sinister about it, as though it were execution day.
At the grocer's, Hippolyte's case was discussed from every
angle. None of the stores did any business. And Madame
Tuvache, the mayor's wife, didn't budge form her window, so
eager was she not to miss the surgeon's arrival.
He drove up in his gig, holding the reins himself. Over
the years the right-hand spring had given way under the weight
of his corpulence, so that the carriage sagged a little to one
side as it rolled along. Beside him, on the higher half of
the seat cushion, could be seen a huge red leather case, its
three brass clasps gleaming magisterially.
The doctor drew up in the hotel yard with a flourish and
called loudly for someone to unharness his mare, and then went
to the stable to see whether she was really being given oats
as he had ordered. His first concern, whenever he arrived at
a patient's, was always for his mare and his gig. "That
Canivet, he's a character!" people said of him. And they
thought the more of him for his unshakable self-assurance.
The universe might have perished to the last man, and he
wouldn't have altered his habits a jot.
Part 2, Ch 12:
A team of four horses, galloping every day for a week, had
been whirling her and Rodolphe toward a new land from which
they would never return. On and on the carriage bore them, and
they sat there, arms entwined, saying not a word. Often from
a mountain top they would espy some splendid city, with domes,
bridges, ships, forests of lemon trees, and white marble cathe-
drals whose pointed steeples were crowned with storks' nests.
Here the horses slowed, picking their way over the great paving-
stones, and the ground was strewn with bouquets of flowers
tossed at them by women laced in red bodices. The ringing of
bells and the braying of mules mingled with the murmur of gui-
tars and the sound of gushing fountains. Pyramids of fruit
piled at the foot of pale statues were cooled by the flying
spray, and the statues themselves seemed to smile through the
streaming water. And then one night they arrived in a fishing
village, where brown nets were drying in the wind along the
cliff and the line of cottages. Here they stopped, this would
be their dwelling place. They would live in a low flat roofed
house in the shade of a palm tree, on a bay beside the sea.
They would ride in gondolas, swing in hammocks. And their lives
would be easy and ample like the silk clothes they wore, warm
like the soft nights that enveloped them, starry like the skies
they gazed upon. Nothing specific stood out against the vast
background of the future that she thus envoked. The days were
all of them splendid, and as alike as the waves of the sea. And
the whole thing hovered on the horizon, infinite, harmonious,
blue and sparkling in the sun. But then the baby would cough in
the cradle, or Bovary would give a snore louder than the rest,
and Emma wouldn't fall asleep till morning, when dawn was whiten-
ing the windowpanes and Justin was already opening the shutters
of the pharmacy.
What sort of fantastic carriage would this have been?
She had sent for Monsieur Lheureux and told him she would
be needing a cloak. "A long cloak with a deep collar and a
lining."
"You're going on a trip?" he asked.
"No! But . . . Anyway, I can count on you to get it, can't
I? Soon?"
He bowed.
"I'll want a trunk, too. Not too heavy, roomy."
"I know the kind you mean. About three feet by a foot and
a half, the sort they're making now."
"And an overnight bay." (?)
"A little too much smoke not to mean fire," Lheureux said
to himself.
"And here," said Madame Bovary, unfastening her watch
from her belt. "Take this, you can pay for the things out of
what you get for it."
But the shopkeeper protested. She was wrong to suggest
such a thing, he said. They were well acquainted, he trusted
her completely. She mustn't be childish. But she insisted
that he take at least the chain, and Lheureux had put it in
his pocket and was on his way out when she called him back.
"Hold the luggage for me," she said. "As for the cloak"
she pretended to ponder the question, "don't bring that to me,
either. But give me the address of the shop and tell them to
have it ready for me when I come."
They were to elope the following month. She would leave
Yonville as though to go shopping in Rouen. Rodolphe was to
arrange for their reservations and their passports, and would
write to Paris to make sure that they would have the coach to
themselves as far as Marseilles. There they would buy a
barouche and continue straight on toward Genoa. She would
send her things to Lheureux's whence they would be loaded
directly onto the Hirondelle, thus arousing no one's suspi-
cions. In all these plans there was never a mention of little
Berthe. Rodolphe avoided speaking of her, perhaps Emma had
forgotten her.
That's general information about Emma's planning to make a big trip out of town with Rodolphe. Mentions some details of what's needed.
Part 3, Ch 1:
It was the verger, holding about twenty thick paper-
bound volumes against his stomach. They were "books about
the cathedral."
"Fool!" muttered Leon, hurrying out of the church.
An urchin was playing in the square.
"Go get me a cab!"
The youngster vanished like a shot up the Rue des Quatre-
Vents, and for a few minutes they were left alone, face to
face and a little constrained.
"Oh, Leon! Really . . . I don't know whether I should!"
she simpered. Then, in a serious tone, "It's very improper,
you know."
"What's improper about it?' retorted the clerk. "Every-
body does it in Paris!"
It was an irresistible and clinching argument.
But there was no sign of a cab. Leon was terrified lest
she retreat into the church. Finally the cab appeared.
"Drive past the north door, at least!" cried the verger,
from the entrance. "Take a look at the Resurrection, the Last
Judgment, Paradise, King David, and the souls of the damned in
the flames of hell!"
"Where does Monsieur wish to go?" asked the driver.
"Anywhere!" said Leon, pushing Emma into the carriage.
And the lumbering contraption rolled away.
It went down the Rue Grand-Pont, crossed the Place des
Arts, the Quai Napoleon and the Pont Neuf, and stopped in
front of the statue of Pierre Corneille.
"Keep going!" called a voice from within.
It started off again, and gathering speed on the down-
grade beyond the Carrefour Lafayette it came galloping up to
the railway station.
"No! Straight on!" cried the same voice.
Rattling out through the station gates, the cab soon
turned into the Boulevard, where it proceeded at a gentl trot
between the double row of tall elms. The coachman wiped his
brow, stowed his leather hat between his legs, and veered the
cab off beyond the side lanes to the grass strip along the
river front.
It continued along the river on the cobbled towing path
for a long time in the direction of Oyssel, leaving the is-
lands behind.
But suddenly it rushed off through Quatre-Mares, Sotte-
ville, the Grande-Chaussee, the Rue d'Elbeuf, and made its
third stop, this time at the Jardin des Plantes.
"Drive on!" cried the voice, more furiously.
And abruptly starting off again it went through Saint-
Sever, along the Quai des Curandiers and the Quai aux Meules,
recrossed the bridge, crossed the Place du Champ-de-Mars and
continued on behind the garden of the hospital, where old men
in black jackets were strolling in the sun on a terrace green
with ivy. It went up the Boulevard Bouvreuil, along the
Boulevard Cauchoise, and traversed Mont-Riboudet as far as
the hill at Deville.
There it turned back, and from then on it wandered at
random, without apparent goal. It was seen at Saint-Pol, at
Lescure, at Mont-Gargan, at Rouge-Mare and the Place du Gail-
lardbois. In the Rue Maladrerie, the Rue Dinanderie, and in
front of one church after another, Saint-Romain, Saint-Vivien,
Saint-Maclou, Saint-Nicaise. In front of the customs house,
at the Basse Vieille-Tour, at Trois-Pipes, and at the Cimeti-
ere Monumental. From his seat the coachman now and again cast
a desperate glance at a cafe. He couldn't conceive what loco-
motive frenzy was making these people persist in refusing to
stop. He tried a few times, only to hear immediate angry ex-
clamations from behind. So he lashed the more furiously at
his two sweating nags, and paid no attention whatever to bumps
in the road. He hooked into things right and left. He was
past caring, demoralized, and almost weeping from thirst,
fatigue, and despair.
Along the river front amidst the trucks and the barrels,
along the streets from the shelter of the guard posts, the
bourgeois stared wide-eyed at this spectacle unheard of in the
provinces. A carriage with drawn shades that kept appearing
and reappearing, sealed tighter than a tomb and tossing like
a ship.
At a certain moment in the early afternoon, when the sun
was blazing down most fiercely on the old silver-plated lamps,
a bare hand appeared from under the little yellow cloth cur-
tains and threw out some torn scraps of paper. The wind caught
them and scattered them, and they alighted at a distance, like
white butterflies, on a field of flowering red clover.
Then, about six o'clock, the carriage stopped in a side
street near the Place Beauvoisine. A woman alighted from it
and walked off, her veil down, without a backward glance.
Leon's long ride with Emma in a stage coach, gettin it on.
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