Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert

Part I

CHAPTER ONE

We were in class when the head-master came in, followed
by a ‘new fellow,’ not wearing the school
uniform, and a school servant carrying a large desk. Those
who had been asleep woke up, and every one rose as if just
surprised at his work.
The head-master made a sign to us to sit down. Then,
turning to the class-master, he said to him in a low voice—
‘Monsieur Roger, here is a pupil whom I recommend to
your care; he’ll be in the second. If his work and conduct
are satisfactory, he will go into one of the upper classes, as
becomes his age.’
The ‘new fellow,’ standing in the corner behind the door
so that he could hardly be seen, was a country lad of about
fifteen, and taller than any of us. His hair was cut square on
his forehead like a village chorister’s; he looked reliable, but
very ill at ease. Although he was not broad-shouldered, his
short school jacket of green cloth with black buttons must
have been tight about the arm-holes, and showed at the
opening of the cuffs red wrists accustomed to being bare.
His legs, in blue stockings, looked out from beneath yellow
trousers, drawn tight by braces, He wore stout, ill-cleaned,
hob-nailed boots.
We began repeating the lesson. He listened with all his
ears, as attentive as if at a sermon, not daring even to cross his legs or lean on his elbow; and when at two o’clock the
bell rang, the master was obliged to tell him to fall into line
with the rest of us.
When we came back to work, we were in the habit of
throwing our caps on the ground so as to have our hands
more free; we used from the door to toss them under the
form, so that they hit against the wall and made a lot of dust:
it was ‘the thing.’
But, whether he had not noticed the trick, or did not dare
to attempt it, the ‘new fellow,’ was still holding his cap on
his knees even after prayers were over. It was one of those
head-gears of composite order, in which we can find traces
of the bearskin, shako, billycock hat, sealskin cap, and
cotton night-cap; one of those poor things, in fine, whose
dumb ugliness has depths of expression, like an imbecile’s
face. Oval, stiffened with whalebone, it began with three
round knobs; then came in succession lozenges of velvet
and rabbit-skin separated by a red band; after that a sort of
bag that ended in a cardboard polygon covered with complicated
braiding, from which hung, at the end of a long
thin cord, small twisted gold threads in the manner of a tassel.
The cap was new; its peak shone.
‘Rise,’ said the master.
He stood up; his cap fell. The whole class began to laugh.
He stooped to pick it up. A neighbor knocked it down again
with his elbow; he picked it up once more.
‘Get rid of your helmet,’ said the master, who was a bit
of a wag.
There was a burst of laughter from the boys, which so thoroughly put the poor lad out of countenance that he did
not know whether to keep his cap in his hand, leave it on
the ground, or put it on his head. He sat down again and
placed it on his knee.
‘Rise,’ repeated the master, ‘and tell me your name.’
The new boy articulated in a stammering voice an unintelligible
name.
‘Again!’
The same sputtering of syllables was heard, drowned by
the tittering of the class.
‘Louder!’ cried the master; ‘louder!’
The ‘new fellow’ then took a supreme resolution, opened
an inordinately large mouth, and shouted at the top of his
voice as if calling someone in the word ‘Charbovari.’
A hubbub broke out, rose in crescendo with bursts of
shrill voices (they yelled, barked, stamped, repeated ‘Charbovari!
Charbovari’), then died away into single notes,
growing quieter only with great difficulty, and now and
again suddenly recommencing along the line of a form
whence rose here and there, like a damp cracker going off,
a stifled laugh.
However, amid a rain of impositions, order was gradually
re-established in the class; and the master having
succeeded in catching the name of ‘Charles Bovary,’ having
had it dictated to him, spelt out, and re-read, at once ordered
the poor devil to go and sit down on the punishment
form at the foot of the master’s desk. He got up, but before
going hesitated. etc ...


Download : Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert

Bookmark :