A Simple Soul | Page 5

Gustave Flaubert
was installed in her house.
At first she lived in a constant anxiety that was caused by "the style of
the household" and the memory of "Monsieur," that hovered over
everything. Paul and Virginia, the one aged seven, and the other barely
four, seemed made of some precious material; she carried them
pig-a-back, and was greatly mortified when Madame Aubain forbade
her to kiss them every other minute.

But in spite of all this, she was happy. The comfort of her new
surroundings had obliterated her sadness.
Every Thursday, friends of Madame Aubain dropped in for a game of
cards, and it was Felicite's duty to prepare the table and heat the
foot-warmers. They arrived at exactly eight o'clock and departed before
eleven.
Every Monday morning, the dealer in second-hand goods, who lived
under the alley-way, spread out his wares on the sidewalk. Then the
city would be filled with a buzzing of voices in which the neighing of
horses, the bleating of lambs, the grunting of pigs, could be
distinguished, mingled with the sharp sound of wheels on the cobble-
stones. About twelve o'clock, when the market was in full swing, there
appeared at the front door a tall, middle-aged peasant, with a hooked
nose and a cap on the back of his head; it was Robelin, the farmer of
Geffosses. Shortly afterwards came Liebard, the farmer of Toucques,
short, rotund and ruddy, wearing a grey jacket and spurred boots.
Both men brought their landlady either chickens or cheese. Felicite
would invariably thwart their ruses and they held her in great respect.
At various times, Madame Aubain received a visit from the Marquis de
Gremanville, one of her uncles, who was ruined and lived at Falaise on
the remainder of his estates. He always came at dinner-time and
brought an ugly poodle with him, whose paws soiled their furniture. In
spite of his efforts to appear a man of breeding (he even went so far as
to raise his hat every time he said "My deceased father"), his habits got
the better of him, and he would fill his glass a little too often and relate
broad stories. Felicite would show him out very politely and say: "You
have had enough for this time, Monsieur de Gremanville! Hoping to
see you again!" and would close the door.
She opened it gladly for Monsieur Bourais, a retired lawyer. His bald
head and white cravat, the ruffling of his shirt, his flowing brown coat,
the manner in which he took snuff, his whole person, in fact, produced
in her the kind of awe which we feel when we see extraordinary
persons. As he managed Madame's estates, he spent hours with her in

Monsieur's study; he was in constant fear of being compromised, had a
great regard for the magistracy and some pretensions to learning.
In order to facilitate the children's studies, he presented them with an
engraved geography which represented various scenes of the world;
cannibals with feather head-dresses, a gorilla kidnapping a young girl,
Arabs in the desert, a whale being harpooned, etc.
Paul explained the pictures to Felicite. And, in fact, this was her only
literary education.
The children's studies were under the direction of a poor devil
employed at the town-hall, who sharpened his pocket-knife on his
boots and was famous for his penmanship.
When the weather was fine, they went to Geffosses. The house was
built in the centre of the sloping yard; and the sea looked like a grey
spot in the distance. Felicite would take slices of cold meat from the
lunch basket and they would sit down and eat in a room next to the
dairy. This room was all that remained of a cottage that had been torn
down. The dilapidated wall-paper trembled in the drafts. Madame
Aubain, overwhelmed by recollections, would hang her head, while the
children were afraid to open their mouths. Then, "Why don't you go
and play?" their mother would say; and they would scamper off.
Paul would go to the old barn, catch birds, throw stones into the pond,
or pound the trunks of the trees with a stick till they resounded like
drums. Virginia would feed the rabbits and run to pick the wild flowers
in the fields, and her flying legs would disclose her little embroidered
pantalettes. One autumn evening, they struck out for home through the
meadows. The new moon illumined part of the sky and a mist hovered
like a veil over the sinuosities of the river. Oxen, lying in the pastures,
gazed mildly at the passing persons. In the third field, however, several
of them got up and surrounded them. "Don't be afraid," cried Felicite;
and murmuring a sort of lament she passed her hand over the back of
the nearest ox; he turned away
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