most terrible.  The author has concentrated all the interest upon the man who did not deviate from the line of duty, who preserved his mediocre character, to be sure (for the author could not change his character) but who preserved also all his generosity of heart, while upon the wife who deceived him, ruined him, gave him into the hands of usurers, put into circulation forged notes and finally arrived at suicide, was heaped all the accumulated horrors.  We shall see that it is natural—­the death of this woman who, if she had not come to her end by poison, would have been broken by the excess of misfortune with which she was surrounded.  The author has seen this.  His book would not be read if he had done otherwise, if, in order to show where an education as perilous as that of Madame Bovary can lead, he had not been prodigal with the fascinating images and the powerful tableaux for which he is reproached.

M. Flaubert constantly sets forth the superiority of the husband over the wife, and what superiority, if you please? that of simple duty fulfilled, while the wife was straying from hers.  Here she is, fixed by the bent of this bad education; here she is, gone out after the scene of the ball, with the young boy, Leon, as inexperienced as herself.  She coquets with him but does not dare to go further; nothing happens.  Then comes Rodolphe who takes the woman to himself.  After looking at her for a moment, he said:  This woman is all right.  She will be easy prey, because she is light-minded and inexperienced.  As to the fall, will you re-read pages 42, 43 and 44.  I have only a word to say about this scene and that is:  there are no details, no descriptions, no image that can trouble the senses; a single word indicates the fall:  “She abandoned herself.”  I pray you to have the goodness to read again the details of the fall of Clarissa Harlowe, which I have not heard decried as a bad book.  M. Flaubert has substituted Rodolphe for Lovelace, and Emma for Clarissa.  If you will compare the two authors and the two books you will appreciate the situation.

But I will return here to the indignation of the Government Attorney.  He is shocked that remorse does not immediately follow the fall, and that in the place of expressing bitterness, she said with satisfaction:  “I have a lover!” But the author would not be true, if he made the enchanting draught seem bitter while it still touched the lips.  He who wrote as the Attorney understands might be moral, but he would be saying what is not in nature.  No, it is not at the first moment of a fault that the sentiment of fault is awakened; otherwise, it would not be committed.  No, it is not at the moment when she is under a delusion that intoxicates her that a woman can be averted from this intoxication even by the immensity of the fault she has committed.  She feels only the intoxication; she goes back to her home happy, sparkling, and singing in her heart:  “I have a lover!” But can this last long?  You have read pages 424 and 425.  On both pages, and if you please, to page 428, the sentiment of disgust with her lover is not yet manifest; but she is already under the impression of fear and uneasiness.  She thinks, weighs the question, and believes that she does not wish to abandon Rodolphe: