Madame Bovary

The  older  mushir  Bovari.  Mushur  charles  Dennis  Bartholome  Bovari  had  been  a  good  looking  man  when  younger,  with  a  big  mustache  and  rings  on  his  fingers.  He  was  not,  however,  an  impressive  man,  and  although  he  wore  expensive  clothes,  he  always  looked  like  an  uncomfortable  mixture  of  a  military  man  and  a  cheap  shopkeeper.  His  good  looks  and  ability  to  sell  himself  did  nevertheless  win  him  a  wife  with  a  good  income.  After  he  was  safely  married,  he  lived  for  two  or  three  years  on  her  money.

He  ate  and  drank  well,  and  spent  his  days  lying  in  bed  till  midday  smoking  his  pipe  and  never  coming  home  till  the  theaters  and  cafes  closed.  When  his  father  in  law  died,  the  old  man  left  very  little  money  to  his  daughter.  Disappointed,  Monsieur  Bovari  tried  to  start  a  textile  business,  but  lost  a  lot  of  money  and  finally  retired  into  the  country  with  the  idea  of  showing  the  people  there  how  to  run  a  farm.  However,  he  knew  as  little  about  agriculture  as  he  did  about  textiles.  He  rode  his  horses  instead  of  making  them  work,  ate  the  fattest  chickens  instead  of  selling  them,  and  cleaned  his  shooting  boots  with  his  own  best  bacon  fat.

He  soon  discovered  that  he  had  little  chance  of  making  a  fortune.  Around  this  time,  he  found  a  place  on  the  borders  of  Cox  and  Picardi,  half  farm,  half  private  house,  which  he  could  rent  for  200  francs  a  year.  He  took  it,  and  there  an  angry,  disappointed  man  at  war  with  the  rest  of  the  world.  He  shut  himself  up  at  the  age  of  45.  He  said  that  he  was  disgusted  with  other  people  and  wanted  only  to  live  by  himself.

At  the  beginning,  his  wife  had  loved  him  above  all  others,  but  this  only  seemed  to  add  to  his  dislike  of  the  world,  and  he  never  had  a  kind  word  for  her.  She  had  been  cheerful,  kind  hearted  and  friendly,  but  as  she  grew  older,  in  the  same  way  that  good  wine  turns  into  vinegar,  she  became  bad  tempered  and  bad  company.  She  was  a  hard  worker,  though.  Unlike  her  husband,  she  was  always  on  her  feet,  always  busy  hurrying  to  see  the  lawyers,  knowing  exactly  when  the  next  bills  had  to  be  paid.  Indoors,  she  was  always  working,  swing,  washing,  keeping  an  eye  on  the  men  and  paying  them  their  wages.

Her  lord  and  master,  paying  no  attention  to  what  was  going  on  around  him,  sat  smoking  by  the  fire.