Read Online Madame Bovary's Daughter by Linda Urbach - Free Book Online

first time in months, she felt almost happy.
    â€œDid you know my mother took poison and it killed her?” she asked.
    â€œI heard the story,” he said. Berthe was not surprised. Word traveled quickly from town to town. Especially tales about the disreputable woman married to the only doctor in the region.
    â€œIt’s not a story. It’s true,” she said, drinking again from the jug. “She was very unhappy.”
    â€œIt’s a sin. She’s probably in hell,” he said matter-of-factly.
    â€œDon’t say that,” she replied angrily. She tipped the jug and took another long drink.
    â€œThey say your mother was in love with love.”
    â€œWho said that?” She was beginning to feel dizzy.
    â€œEverybody. Your mother was much talked about in these parts. Are you like your mother?”
    â€œNo, I’m not. Not even a little.”
    â€œGive me a kiss. Let’s see if you have a taste for love.” He reached for her but she pulled out of his grasp.
    â€œGo kiss a cow.” She twirled away, but he reached around and yanked the jug out of her hands.
    â€œThat’s enough. Pretty soon you’ll be reeling all over the farmyard and your grand-mère will sack me for getting you drunk.”
    â€œI’m not drunk,” she protested. “What is this called?” she asked, pointing to the jug.
    â€œIt’s called drinking too early in the day.” He grinned, taking a big swig for himself. Swallowing, he said, “Calvados. It’s the only thing those sour apples are good for. It is drunk during the meal to help with digestion.”
    â€œI thought your mother gave it to you to ward off the chill.”
    â€œI lied,” he said. “I stole it from the pantry before my father could finish it off.”
    Berthe laughed. Renard was a kindred spirit. He lay down on the ground, folded his arms behind his head, and stared up at her through half-closed eyes. She had a tremendous urge to crawl into his arms. He was older and stronger and seemed ever so much wiser. She felt a wave of gratitude for the fact she had found him in the middle of the lonely countryside. It suddenly didn’t matter that her grand-mère hated her. She had Renard and he would be her friend. And that made her feel warm all over.

C HAPTER 4

The Artist’s Model
    I T WAS A STEAMY HOT DAY WHEN B ERTHE TOOK C ÉLESTE FOR A cool drink by the small river behind her grand-mère’s house. As Céleste drank her fill, Berthe dipped her feet into the stream. The cold water felt wonderful on her hot, blistered feet. She hitched up her skirt and tied it with her apron strings so that she could get her legs completely wet.
    â€œ
Bonjour
, mademoiselle,” a voice said. She looked up, startled. A huge man with a thick beard and long, dark curling hair leaned against an oak tree several feet from where she sat. He was about thirty-five or forty years of age and his beard and mustache were so thick she could not see his mouth. He had strong, stern brows and intense gray eyes above a prominent nose. He wore a blue tunic and a floppy straw hat, and carried a canvas bag over one shoulder. Suddenly, he smiled and his whole face changed. His mustache turned upward, his beard quivered, and his eyes gleamed warmly.
    â€œ
Bonjour
, monsieur,” she said.
    â€œThe water feels fine?” he asked, staring at her bare feet andlegs. She suddenly felt very self-conscious but struggled to conceal it.
    â€œ
Oui
, monsieur, it is very refreshing.”
    â€œDo you live nearby, mademoiselle?”
    She hesitated. “Yes, I live with my grand-mère over there.” She pointed to the house through the trees.
    â€œPerhaps you will take me to see her.” He put down his bag and, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, he removed his straw hat and wiped his brow. He must have seen the question in her eyes. “I would like to ask her permission to draw