life, seemed to lessen beneath her like the water
of a stream absorbed into its channel, and she could see the bed of it.
She would not believe it; she redoubled in tenderness, and Rodolphe
concealed his indifference less and less.

She did not know whether she regretted yielding to him, or whether she
did not wish, on the contrary, to enjoy him the more. The humiliation of
feeling herself weak was turning to rancour, tempered by their
voluptuous pleasures. It was not affection; it was like a continual
seduction. He subjugated her; she almost feared him.

Appearances, nevertheless, were calmer than ever, Rodolphe having
succeeded in carrying out the adultery after his own fancy; and at the
end of six months, when the spring-time came, they were to one another
like a married couple, tranquilly keeping up a domestic flame.

It was the time of year when old Rouault sent his turkey in remembrance
of the setting of his leg. The present always arrived with a letter.
Emma cut the string that tied it to the basket, and read the following
lines:--

"MY DEAR CHILDREN,--I hope this will find you in good health, and
that it will be as good as the others, for it seems to me a little
more tender, if I may venture to say so, and heavier. But next time,
for a change, I'll give you a turkey-cock, unless you have a
preference for some dabs; and send me back the hamper, if you
please, with the two old ones. I have had an accident with my
cart-sheds, whose covering flew off one windy night among the trees.
The harvest has not been over-good either. Finally, I don't know
when I shall come to see you. It is so difficult now to leave the
house since I am alone, my poor Emma."

Here there was a break in the lines, as if the old fellow had dropped
his pen to dream a little while.

"For myself, I am very well, except for a cold I caught the other
day at the fair at Yvetot, where I had gone to hire a shepherd,
having turned away mine because he was too dainty. How we are to be
pitied with such a lot of thieves! Besides, he was also rude. I
heard from a pedlar, who, traveling through your part of the country
this winter, had a tooth drawn, that Bovary was as usual working
hard. That doesn't surprise me; and he showed me his tooth; we had
some coffee together. I asked him if he had seen you, and he said
not, but that he had seen two horses in the stables, from which