Madame Bovary Page #2

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for pursuing the impossible.

The dream did not end.

She had learned to be a woman for whom|experience would always be a prison,

and freedom would lie always|beyond the horizon.

Here, in these books, in these pictures,|we had taught her

that the strange was beautiful|and the familiar contemptible.

We had taught her to find glamour,|excitement, in the faraway

and only boredom in the here and now.

We had taught her what?

To believe in Cinderella,

and now, here, this morning,|Charles Bovary.

Emma Roualt, you cannot know.|He is not Prince Charming.

He is only a man.

It was very wise of you|to consult me, Doctor.

In all matters of wills, deeds, notes,|assignments, etcetera, etcetera,

I am at your service.|My mind is a storehouse of details.

You will need a house.

Monsieur Guillaumin,|I haven't decided yet.

You will. Leon!

Leon, please make a note.

A house for Dr. Bovary.

A proper house with a stable,

and a rear entrance through which the|doctor may come and go out on his calls.

You see, I think of every detail.

Monsieur, the detail|that I want to know is,

can I make a living here...

Oh, yes, and a garden for Madame Bovary.

Are you making notes, Leon,|or composing poetry in your head?

- My clerk, Leon Dupuis.|- How do you do?

Leon's value to Yonville is largely cultural,|shall we say, ornamental?

He has no mind for details.

- Now, now, where was I?|- You...

Oh, yes, oh, yes.|A garden for Madame Bovary.

Well, a garden may present|some difficulty, but...

Make a living in Yonville?

My boy, why,|of course you'll make a living.

Thank you, Mayor Tuvache.|Thank you very much.

Why, of course, of course. An ample living.

Why, Yonville is the garden spot|of Normandy.

In Yonville, the temperature seldom falls|in winter below the freezing point

or in summer rises above|86 degrees Fahrenheit.

And consider, monsieur,|we have a stagecoach, the Hirondelle.

It'll be a great convenience to your wife.

It leaves the inn at 9:00 every morning|for shopping at Rouen.

- Why do you laugh?|- My wife, she...

I don't even know that she'll marry me.

Oh, never fear. She will.|Tell her about Yonville.

- Yes, tell her about Yonville.|- I will.

Yonville. It sounds like heaven.|Tell me all about it again.

Well, there's the Place d'Armes.|That's the...

And the inn|just the other side of the canal.

This is a... The Mayor said|I should tell you about Yonville,

but I never thought|it would work this well.

Emma, your father's almost well now,

and I guess|I won't get to see you anymore.

Why, I mean,|you haven't known me very long, but...

Emma, please will you marry me?

Oh, I'm sorry.

Well, there's no reason in the world|why you should marry me.

I'm not a very good doctor.|I'll be lucky if I make a living.

I haven't had much schooling.

If I work hard,|it's because I know I have little talent.

- I have to work hard.|- Oh, don't say that.

Emma.

Emma, listen to me|before you say anything.

I'm easy to get along with|and I'll be a good husband,

but I'm not very exciting.

Charles! Charles, you're the handsomest,|most distinguished man in all this world.

Emma, remind me to thank that Mayor.

- How can you laugh at them?|- Oh, they mean well.

Take me away, Charles, please.

I would like to propose a toast.

Sit down, sit down, sit down!

Charles. Charles!

A country wedding scene.

Please help me.

The cruelty, the ugliness,

the drunkenness, lechery, vulgarity.

The sheer noise.

There they go!

- I want to kiss the bride.|- Charles!

- I wanna kiss you.|- Leave her alone.

There she goes.

There they go.

- Go and get them.|- Watch it!

He took her away from the squealing pigs,

from the dunghill beside the door,

from the boors and the backcountry|and the shame. He took her away.

Yonville.

It's like a picture in a storybook.

Hyppolite, the inn boy,|he'll take care of your horse.

I didn't think you'd want to be bothered|tonight by such a detail.

Hyppolite.

Light the lamps.

Also, some of our leading citizens planned|a formal reception for you tonight.

I took the liberty of discouraging them.

Oh, it seems we've found a friend.

Thank you.

It's a small village.|I hope you find another.

- Why, we'll find many friends.|- Of course you will.

Don't expect too much of the house,|though. This isn't Paris.

In my humble opinion,|it's a modified rattrap.

Why, Monsieur Dupuis,|I'm sure it's a beautiful house.

Well, I'm sure you can make it beautiful.

There is a linen-draper here|named Lheureux.

He is a scoundrel,|but he knows his business.

He can help you.

Don't let me intrude further|on your privacy.

I live alone with my mother.|I believe she's waiting up for me.

- Good night and congratulations.|- Good night.

Oh. The key.

- Oh, thank you.|- Good night.

Oh.

Hyppolite, what are you going to do,|stand there all night?

Could it have been otherwise?

She had wept, no doubt,|in the early morning hours.

Was Emma the first bride to weep|while the bridegroom slept? Or the last?

Tristan. Lancelot.

Love in a Scotch cottage.

Love in a Swiss chalet.

- Charles, wake up! Charles!|- What is it? What is it?

Charles, I am going to make you|the most beautiful home in Yonville

this side of Rouen, this side of Paris.

What are you talking about?

This house, it's so ugly.|I'm going to do it over myself.

No, I mean it. I'll talk to that linen-draper

and that young man last night, the clerk.|He seemed to have good taste.

- Good morning, Madame Bovary.|- Oh, I will, I will.

I'll give you a home you can be proud of.|We'll be gay. We'll entertain.

New dreams for old.

Could this morning have been otherwise?

- Where?|- Higher, Leon.

Higher yet.

- Could you get it to the top?|- I'll try.

Oh, I shall probably be impaled|on the arrow.

I abhor arrows.

But for you, Madame Bovary,|I'd die with an arrow through my heart.

Oh. Oh, Leon, I can't believe|you've never been to Paris.

Oh, this is lovely.

How much is it, Mr. Lheureux?

For you, Madame Bovary, 12 francs a yard.

For anybody else, 10. What a scoundrel!

It's quite expensive, isn't it?|Let me see, now.

The chair, that was 30,|and the sofa and the mirror.

I must have the mirror.|And my new carpet...

- My poor husband, when he sees the bill.|- He needn't, you know.

We can keep anything you choose|a private transaction between you and me.

I'd have to ask you to sign certain notes,|just as a matter of record.

Oh, monsieur, I couldn't.

Oh, this is nice, isn't it?

You have unfailing taste.

Madame Bovary,|you have only to command,

and I will undertake to provide|anything you wish.

Furniture, gowns.

I make regular trips to Rouen,

and I have connections|with the best houses in Paris.

Charming, isn't it?

I can't, of course, accuse the woman,|but I certainly have my suspicions.

After all, to allow this strange man|into her shop and to close the shutters.

Oh, it was all well and good|to claim he'd come to repair her stove.

She might just as well have said|that her bread needed a bit of yeast.

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