Everything, even
herself, was now unbearable to her. She wished that, taking wing like a
bird, she could fly somewhere, far away to regions of purity, and there
grow young again.
She went out, crossed the Boulevard, the Place Cauchoise, and the
Faubourg, as far as an open street that overlooked some gardens. She
walked rapidly; the fresh air calming her; and, little by little, the
faces of the crowd, the masks, the quadrilles, the lights, the supper,
those women, all disappeared like mists fading away. Then, reaching the
"Croix-Rouge," she threw herself on the bed in her little room on the
second floor, where there were pictures of the "Tour de Nesle." At four
o'clock Hivert awoke her.
When she got home, Felicite showed her behind the clock a grey paper.
She read--
"In virtue of the seizure in execution of a judgment."
What judgment? As a matter of fact, the evening before another paper
had been brought that she had not yet seen, and she was stunned by these
words--
"By order of the king, law, and justice, to Madame Bovary.
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