All language subtitles for Madame.Bovary.1949.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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As public prosecutor, I demand

that further publication of this
novel be forbidden,

and that its author,
Gustave Flaubert,

be found guilty of committing
the misdemeanor

of an outrage against public
morals

and established custom.

This man, this Flaubert,

has created a character,
a Frenchwoman,

who is at once a disgrace to France

and an insult to womanhood.

Emma Bovary, a woman
who neglects her own child,

a child that needs her,

who scorns her own husband,
a husband who loves her,

who introduces adultery and ruin
into her home,

this is our heroine.

This corrupt, loathsome,
contemptible creature,

this woman of insatiable
passions,

this monstrous creation of a
degenerate imagination,

this is the heroine we are asked
to pity, to forgive,

why, perhaps, to love.

Gentlemen, nowhere in this
entire work

does Gustave Flaubert ask us to
blame Emma Bovary

and find her guilty of her crimes.

The state asks you, gentlemen,

to find Gustave Flaubert guilty
of his.

Gustave Flaubert.

Gustave Flaubert,

do you deny the accusations
of the public attorney?

I do.

And I don't.

If it were only that easy,
gentlemen, to confirm or deny.

The public attorney has read
you certain passages from my work.

Can I deny them?

He has summed up certain
unpleasant facts

concerning its heroine

as if he were a schoolboy
doing a problem of two and two.

But still, can I deny them?

He has indicted me for the crime
of forgiveness.

What can I say?

Forgiveness is still, as I
understand it,

among the Christian sentiments.

I do not deny it.

Gentlemen, I do deny

that I have made any attack upon
public morality.

I have shown you the vicious,
yes,

for the sake of understanding it

so that we may preserve the
virtuous.

Furthermore, I deny that Emma
Bovary

is a monstrous creation of my
degenerate imagination.

Monstrous she may be,

but it was not I who created her.

Our world --

your world and mine -- created her,

as I shall attempt to demonstrate.

There are thousands of Emma Bovarys.

I only had to draw from life.

And there are hundreds and
thousands of women

who wish they were Emma Bovary...

...and who have been saved from
her fate not by virtue,

but simply by lack of determination.

Let me proceed.

Let me take you back, gentlemen,

not to the passages
that the public attorney

has read for you.

Let me take you back to
the time when Emma was 20,

when she was still Emma Roualt
and lived on her father's farm.

The night when Charles Bovary
first met her.

See her for the first time as he
saw her.

Flaubert: Charles Bovary took
little notice of the farm.

It was rude, substantial,
lonely -- in a way, miserable.

He'd seen hundreds of such
farms.

Good evening.

I should say, good morning.

Are you the doctor from Tostes?

Look, Madame Foulard, how young
he is!

Could he fix a broken leg?
That's all I want to know.

I don't know. I have no faith in
young doctors.

We're just neighbors, but
we never would've called you

from as far away as Tostes,
except that our local doctor

oh, a very imposing man,
I assure you, with a beard

happens to be away.

His wife, poor man, is ill.

Madame, I share your doubts.

May I say that my only
qualifications are these

that it's a very stormy night,

that I have no wife, that I
am the doctor who came.

Now if you'll show me to the
patient,

you both can go home and get
some rest.

Oh, right this way.

I want to see him set the leg,
Mama.

Never mind! Never mind!

We're going home.

Good night, Emma. Try to get
some rest.

A doctor should have a beard.

- Well, I thank you.
- That's it.

If those harpies are gone, rouse
out my daughter.

- She'll give you some breakfast.
- All right.

Goodbye, Monsieur Roualt.

Doctor Bovary? You must be very
tired.

- How is my father?
- Your fa...

Oh, uh, it's a simple fracture,

lower right tibia, no complications.

I'll be back in a week or so.

Boots. Your father's gonna get
along just, uh...

He'll get along fine.

I'm sure you'll want some
breakfast. I'll try to hurry.

Oh, no, no. Take your time,
please. Take, uh...

Take a great deal of time.

Please sit down.

- Perfume.
- Don't you like it?

Mademoiselle, I've come into

many a farmhouse kitchen at
dawn.

I've smelled many smells
milk, children's vomit... sour

I've never smelled perfume
before.

Then you do like it. I hope you
like this too.

What are you doing here?

- Why, I live here.
- Oh.

Yes, I know, but why didn't
I see you when I came in?

I didn't let you. I looked
awful.

You do me too great honor.

Dr. Bovary, when I saw you come
in here out of the rain,

and -- and you were so
wet, and you'd come so far,

and those awful women...

I cannot do you too great honor.

And if I please you, well, then,
I am honored too.

You know, I've been thinking,

your father's leg might develop
complications.

Perhaps I'd better come back
tomorrow.

Uh...

Please, uh...

Here, gentlemen, is the monster.

Here is the corrupt and loathsome creature.

Here is the disgrace to France
and the insult to womanhood --

Emma Roualt, the flower beyond
the dunghill.

How had she grown here,

the kitchen drudge who had
dreamed of love and beauty?

What are dreams made of? Where
do they come from?

Absurd dreams of fashion and
luxury

in a farmhouse bedroom.

Who was the messenger?

Ridiculous dreams of high
romance

and impossible love.

The cavalier, the serenade,

the long ago and the faraway.

Images of beauty that never
existed.

These things she loved.

Emma Roualt, motherless,

had attended a convent

in the provincial city of Rouen.

Emma at first detested the
convent.

The scales, the eternal scales,

when she might have been
learning love songs.

The discipline, the dreadful
conformity.

The eternal uniform,

when a girl's young body is
budding.

Perhaps it was the discipline
itself and Emma's discontent

that drove her to dreams,

and taught a lonely girl to live
within herself.

For these became the happy
years,

these convent years,

when a young girl's mind could
wander.

And then, as if to feed her
dreams,

there was the old Swiss
seamstress

who sang the love songs of the
last century

and told stories about love in a
Swiss chalet

and love in a villa in Italy,

and to make the geography lesson
complete,

slipped them on the sly
novels forbidden by the sisters,

so they could read about love in
a cottage in Scotland

and love in a castle in Spain.

Novels. Novels.

She lived in a world of love,
lovers, sweethearts,

persecuted ladies
fainting in lonely pavilions,

horses ridden to death on every
page,

gentlemen brave as lions, gentle
as lambs,

always well dressed and weeping
like fountains.

Oh, love in Italy! Oh, love in
Spain!

It seemed to Emma that certain
places on Earth

must bring happiness,

as a plant peculiar to the soil
that cannot thrive elsewhere.

She would find it someday.

Happiness.

Fashion.

High romance.

One kind of dream and another
kind of life.

The convent years ended and Emma
returned to the farm.

Had she been a normal girl,

her dreams might likewise have
ended,

but in Emma there was a
terrifying capacity

for pursuing the impossible.

The dream did not end.

She had learned to be a woman

for whom experience would always
be a prison,

and freedom would lie always
beyond the horizon.

Here, in these books, in these
pictures,

we had taught her that
the strange was beautiful

and the familiar contemptible.

We had taught her to
find glamor, excitement,

in the faraway

and only boredom in the here and
now.

We had taught her what?

To believe in Cinderella,

and now, here, this morning,
Charles Bovary.

Emma Roualt, you cannot know.

He is not Prince Charming.

He is only a man.

It was very wise of you
to consult me, Doctor.

In all matters of wills, deeds,
notes, assignments,

et cetera, et cetera, I am at
your service.

My mind is a storehouse
of details.

You will need a house.

Monsieur Guillaumin, I haven't
decided yet --

You will. Leon!

Uh, Leon...

Uh, please make a note.

A house for Dr. Bovary.

A proper house with a stable,

and a rear entrance through
which the doctor may come

and go out on his calls.

You see, I think of every
detail.

Monsieur, the detail that I want
to know is,

can I make a living here --

Oh, yes, and a garden for Madame
Bovary.

Are you making notes, Leon,

or composing poetry in your
head?

- My clerk, Leon Dupuis.
- How do you do?

Leon's value to Yonville is
largely cultural,

uh, shall we say, ornamental?

He has no mind for details.

- Now... Now, where was I?
- You

Oh, yes, oh, yes. A garden for
Madame Bovary.

Well, a garden may present some
difficulty, but...

Make a living in Yonville?

My boy, why, of course you'll
make a living.

Thank you, Mayor Tuvache.

Why, of course, of course. An
ample living.

Why, Yonville is the garden spot
of Normandy.

In Yonville, the temperature
seldom falls in winter

below the freezing point

or in summer rises above 86
degrees Fahrenheit.

And consider, monsieur,

we have a stagecoach, the
Hirondelle.

It'll be a great convenience to
your wife.

It leaves the inn at 9:00 every
morning

for shopping at Rouen.

Why do you laugh?

My wife, she...

I don't even know that she'll
marry me.

Oh, never fear. She will. Tell
her about Yonville.

- Yes, tell her about Yonville.
- I will.

Yonville. It sounds like heaven.

Tell me all about it again.

Well, um, there's the
Place d'Armes. That's the

And the inn just the other side
of the canal.

This is a...

The mayor said I should tell you
about Yonville,

but I never thought it
would work this well.

Emma, your father's almost well
now,

and I guess I won't get
to see you anymore.

Why, I mean, uh, you haven't
known me very long, but...

Emma, please, will you marry me?

Oh!

Oh, I'm sorry.

Well, there's no reason in the
world

why you should marry me.

I'm not a very good doctor.

I'll be lucky if I make a
living.

I haven't had much schooling.

If I work hard, it's because
I know I have little talent.

- I have to work hard.
- Oh, don't say that.

Emma.

Emma, listen to me before you
say anything.

I'm easy to get along with
and I'll be a good husband,

but I'm -- I'm not very
exciting.

Oh, Charles!

Charles, you're the handsomest,

most distinguished man in all
this world.

Emma, remind me to thank that
mayor.

- How can you laugh at them?
- Oh, they mean well.

Take me away, Charles, please.

I would like to propose a toast.

Sit down, sit down, sit down!

- Charles! Charles!
- A country wedding scene.

Please help me!

The cruelty.

The ugliness.

The drunkenness, lechery,
vulgarity.

The sheer noise.

There they go!

- I want to kiss the bride.
- Charles!

- I want to kiss her!
- Get off! Leave her alone.

There she goes.

There they go!

- Go get them!
- Watch it!

He took her away from the
squealing pigs,

from the dunghill beside the
door,

from the boors and the
backcountry

and the shame.

He took her away.

Yonville.

It's like a picture in a
storybook.

Hyppolite, the inn boy,
he'll take care of your horse.

I didn't think you'd want to be
bothered tonight

by such a detail.

Hyppolite.

Light the lamps.

Also, some of our leading
citizens

planned a formal reception for
you tonight.

I took the liberty of discouraging them.

Oh, it seems we've found a
friend.

Thank you.

It's a small village.
I hope you find another.

- Why, we'll find many friends.
- Of course you will.

Don't expect too much of the
house, though.

This isn't Paris.

In my humble opinion,
it's a modified rattrap.

Why, Monsieur Dupuis, I'm sure
it's a beautiful house.

Well, I'm sure you can make it
beautiful.

There is a linen-draper
here named Lheureux.

He is a scoundrel, but he knows
his business.

He can help you.

Hyppolite!

Don't let me intrude further on
your privacy.

I live alone with my mother.

I believe she's waiting up for
me.

- Good night and congratulations.
- Good night.

Oh. The key.

- Oh, thank you.
- Good night.

Oh.

Hyppolite, what are you going to do,

stand there all night?

Could it have been otherwise?

She had wept, no doubt,
in the early morning hours.

Was Emma the first bride to weep

while the bridegroom slept?

Or the last?

Tristan. Lancelot.

Love in a Scotch cottage.

Love in a Swiss chalet.

- Charles, wake up! Charles!
- What is it? What is it?

Charles, I am going to make you

the most beautiful home in
Yonville --

this side of Rouen, this side of
Paris.

What are you talking about?

This house, it's so ugly.

I'm going to do it over myself.

No, I mean it. I'll talk to that
linen-draper.

And that young man last night,
the clerk.

He seemed to have good taste.

- Good morning, Madame Bovary.
- Oh, I will, I will.

I'll give you a home you can be
proud of.

We'll be gay. We'll entertain.

New dreams for old.

Could this morning have been
otherwise?

- Where?
- Higher, Leon.

Uh... higher yet.

- Could you get it to the top?
- I'll try.

Oh, I shall probably be impaled
on the arrow.

abhor arrows.

But for you, Madame Bovary,

I'd die with an arrow through my
heart.

Oh, Leon, I can't believe you've
never been to Paris.

Oh, this is lovely.

How much is it, Monsieur
Lheureux?

For you, Madame Bovary, 12
francs a yard.

For anybody else, 10! What a
scoundrel!

Uh...

It's quite expensive,
isn't it? Let me see, now.

The chair, that was 30. And the
sofa and the mirror.

I must have the mirror. And my
new carpet...

My poor husband, when he sees
the bill.

He needn't, you know?

We can keep anything you choose
a private transaction

between you and me.

I'd have to ask you to sign
certain notes,

just as a matter of record.

Oh, monsieur, I couldn't.

Oh, this is nice, isn't it?

You have unfailing taste.

Madame Bovary, you have only to
command,

and I will undertake to provide
anything you wish.

Furniture, gowns.

I make regular trips to Rouen,

and I have connections with the
best houses in Paris.

- Oh!
- Charming, isn't it?

Oh...

I can't, of course, accuse
the woman,

but I certainly have my
suspicions.

After all, to allow this strange
man

into her shop and to close the
shutters.

Oh, it was all well and good

to claim he'd come to repair her
stove.

She might just as well have said
that her bread

needed a bit of yeast.

- That was wonderful.
- Bravo, bravo! Bravo!

Excellent. Yes, indeed.
Excellent.

Would you read this now, please?

Madame Bovary has requested me
to read you a selection

from one of the greatest
works of poetry, the Iliad.

Ah!

- By Homer.
- The Iliad, my favorite epic.

One of the noblest achievements
of literature.

I, myself, had the good
fortune of hearing it read

by one of our greatest actors at
the Comédie in Paris.

Monsieur Homais.

Pardon, madame.

"O Greeks! Respect your fame.

Respect yourselves and learn an
honest shame."

Magnificent.

"Let mutual reverence mutual
warmth inspire

and catch from breast to breast
the noble fire."

Paris, ah...

One never forgets its flavor.
The masked balls, the champagne.

And if you knew what went on in
the Latin Quarter.

The dance...

That's utter nonsense, and you
know it.

Huh?

- Charles, when are you coming?
- Oh, come in, dear. Come in.

Madame Bovary, the Marquis
D'Andervilliers.

Oh...

I must apologize, madame,

for taking your husband
away from your soiree,

but I was just passing through
the village

and felt an attack of dizziness.

Oh, it's nothing. Truly, I'm
honored.

You see, I'm just a village
doctor, and it isn't often

that I have the opportunity of
murdering

such a distinguished patient.

Charles!

Such a handsome young couple.

You must come to the château
sometime.

Well, good night.

Good night, sir.

Charles.

Charles, he invited us to
Vaubyessard.

Oh, no, he didn't, not really.
He was just being polite.

Oh, why didn't I offer him some
refreshments?

"Now shakes his spear...

You're not a farmer.

What do you know about
agriculture?

May I... May I offer you
something?

Some other time, perhaps. Good
night.

Well, how's the party?

I'm sorry I had to stay
away for such a long time.

Emma, what's the matter?

Uh, is there anything wrong?

"Once sons of Mars and
thunderbolts of war!"

I have at the same time
exposed myself...

Emma?

Emma, what in the world are you
doing up here?

Well, everybody's gone home.

I thought it was a wonderful
party, didn't you?

Marquis seemed like a very
decent

sort of a fellow, didn't you...

Don't ever mention his name to
me again.

I don't ever want to hear it!
Never!

- What is the matter?
- [Sobbing

- Emma, look at me. What is...
- Let me alone.

Emma. Emma!

Get control of yourself.

Oh, Charles.

Charles. Charles, I want a
child.

I want a boy, Charles.

A boy grows to be a man. A man
can be free.

If he doesn't like his life, he
can change it.

If there's anything beautiful,

if there's anything grand
anywhere in the world,

he can go out and find it.

I want a baby, Charles. I want a
boy.

I want a boy.

New dreams for old.

The dark hours of a woman's life
when old dreams perish

and new dreams are born.

Well.

Emma. It's a girl, Emma.

It's a girl.

The dark hours when new dreams
perish.

Monsieur Homais is opening his
shutters.

It must be one minute to 9:00.

Monsieur Guillaumin, the notary,

will now come out of the Lion
d'Or,

scratch himself and spit.

- Good morning, Monsieur Homais.
- Monsieur.

People do the same thing
every day. They have to.

The town clock will now strike
9:00.

The Hirondelle will leave for
Rouen.

Hyppolite will sweep the steps.

Goodbye.

Leon Dupuis will come running
over the bridge,

late to work again.

Do you know, Charles,
why that clock strikes?

To announce the death of another
hour.

Good morning, Leon.

I wish I were clever.

If I were clever, I could
understand you.

If I could understand you, then
perhaps I could help you.

I love you so much, Emma.

I like a clock that strikes the
hour.

I like knowing today what'll
happen tomorrow.

I like everything. I suppose
that's what's wrong with me.

- What is it you want, Emma?
- How do I know what I want?

Well, it's after 9:00. I have to
leave for my calls.

It's after 9:00.

My husband has to leave for his
calls.

Oh, Berthe, are you filled with
madness too?

Are all women?

Do you remember the Marquis
D'Andervilliers,

the man who came here?

You said never to mention his
name to you again?

Yes, of course I remember him.

Why mention him now?

I don't suppose a man can ever
know

what a woman really wants
or what she really means.

A ball! At Vaubyessard.

It came yesterday.

He's sent us several of them
in the last couple of years,

but I never told you because...

Oh, Charles, you fool.

I don't know why he's asked
us. I suppose he felt sorry for us.

You never told me what
happened that night at the party.

- I only knew that you hated him.
- Oh, you idiot. You idiot.

He's asked us before and never told me.
you

I love you.

I should have stayed single.

Vaubyessard, Vaubyessard.

The only marquis I ever met.

This could be a disaster,
Emma. This is aristocracy.

I know some of these people.
I've treated their servants.

Charles.

You come from a farm. I'm a
village doctor.

We're peasants, Emma. We could
be laughingstocks.

Are you saying we can't go?

The one chance in my life, the
only...

What are you doing to me?

Are you showing me this

and then saying that we can't
go?

No, Emma. No, I'm not.

Oh, you fool! You
wonderful fool.

- Félicité!
- Well, where are you going?

I'm going to Monsieur Lheureux
for a new gown.

Madame. Enchanted to see you.

Forgive me, my dear.

Good evening, madame. Delighted
to see you.

Doctor. What a charming couple.

May I?

Doctor, as your host, I demand
the privilege

of the first dance with your
wife.

Oh, well, yeah.

Perhaps you'd care to join
the games in the billiard room.

Thank you. Uh...

Gentlemen, 100 Louis, if you
please.

Drinks.

Thank you.

That-- That's my wife, uh...
Wife.

Thank you.

The most amazing hunting country
in the world.

- Match, please.
- Wild boar, deer, stag.

I wish you'd join us.

I'm afraid it would be
impossible.

- Perhaps the next time.
- Oh, what a pity. What a pity.

Three kings.

- Who is she?
- Some doctor's wife.

Oh, yes. That peasant.

I'm exhausted.

May I have this dance, Madame
Bovary?

Oh, I'm sorry. This is a waltz,
and I don't waltz.

- It's quite easy.
- I could show you.

Oh, no. No, I should be afraid
to try.

May I?

Oh, I'm sorry, I don't
waltz. No, really, I...

No. I would like to stop,
please.

I can't breathe. I'm going to
faint.

- The lady is going to faint.
- Break the windows.

Emma! Emma?

Emma.

Emma?

E-Emma?

E-- E-Emma!

Emma.

Emma!

Wait. Hey, I-I want to dance
with my wife.

Madame.

I don't like to disturb Dr.
Bovary.

He's in his consulting
room. It's Monsieur Leon.

I'll be right down.

Wait.

- Send him up.
- Up here?

Hello.

Do you know, all the years,

and I've never been up here
before.

How was Vaubyessard?

- Charles is downstairs.
- Hang Charles.

Leon.

Leon, after all these years...

Don't. Don't.

Leon, this is not Paris. This is
a small village.

Charles is downstairs.

- Madame Bovary.
- Yes.

Madame Dupuis is calling.

- Did you say Madame Dupuis?
- Yes.

- Good afternoon, Madame Dupuis.
- Mother.

- Forgive this intrusion.
- Oh, it's nothing.

Leon was helping me.

I was trying to clear out some
trash in the attic.

- Yes.
- Won't you sit down, please?

Where is Dr. Bovary?

Why, I-I believe he has a
patient.

- Did you want to see him?
- No.

It's always such a pleasure
to see you, Madame Bovary.

You're so beautiful.

Leon sees you so often,
and I get so little chance.

Leon is very sensitive to
beauty.

He is a very susceptible boy.

- Mother.
- Yes?

Would you like some chocolate?
I'll ring for Félicité.

Uh, no, I can only stay a
moment.

How is your husband, Madame
Bovary?

Oh, he's well. Very well. Busy,
of course.

Yes, of course. A nice man. Not
brilliant.

But then, if he were brilliant,
he would leave for Paris.

Then who would stay in Yonville

and look after simple people
like me?

That's quite right, Madame
Dupuis.

I'm happy you understand

your husband so well, Madame
Bovary.

Leon is leaving for Paris.

- Yes.
- Mother!

An old friend of the family
will find him a position,

perhaps in Paris, perhaps in
Rouen.

- I didn't know.
- You didn't consult me.

What is this? I thought you
always wanted to go to Paris.

But this is absurd. I...

Don't tell me that you suddenly
find

greater attraction in
Yonville rather than in Paris.

No! N-No, of course I...

Don't you agree, Madame Bovary,

that my son has no future in
Yonville?

Yes, I've overstayed my welcome.

Please give my best regards to
your husband.

Come, Leon. You may see me home.

Well, go on. Don't keep your
mother waiting.

There we are. That's fine.

Might be a little sore
for the next few days...

Oh, I'm sorry.

- Emma, did you want to see me?
- No...

Come in, dear, please. I'm just
finished.

Is Leon still here?

Leon is going to Paris.

He'll never be back.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Still t-that's what he always
wanted, isn't it?

Stupid little village. Stupid...

Emma, please.

I intrude.

Monsieur Rodolphe Boulanger of
La Huchette.

I believe we met at Vaubyessard.

Well, I'll go along now.

I'll bring you this dull fellow
twice a week until he's well.

- That'll be fine.
- Come along.

Good day.

Attention. Attention.

Our village of Yonville is honored today

in having been chosen to present

the agricultural show of
the entire Seine district.

You see, madame? It's in the
air.

Everyone senses it. This is the
age of progress.

Mark my words, Madame Bovary,

you will live to see miracles
of science unheard of.

The blind will see, the lame
will wal-- ah...

Where is he? There. Look. Look,
madame.

A perfect example.

Do you see that poor, wretched
Hyppolite?

Do you know, madame, that
physicians in Paris

have practically perfected an
operation

for the cure of strephopody?

Or, to be exact,
endostrephopody.

Or, to be vulgar, a clubfoot.

May I be permitted, first
of all,

to pay a tribute to the administrators

of our government?

Ah, were I but a physician,
I could cure Hyppolite.

Yes, and bring renown upon our
village

and celebrity upon myself.

I might even be awarded the
Legion of Honor.

Monsieur Homais, it's so hot.
Would you excuse me, please?

Uh, certainly, my dear.

The Legion of Honor.

You farmers, agricultural
laborers,

have understood that
political...

She's taken his arm.

They do say he has plenty of
money.

Plenty of money and no wife.
You know what that means.

It means he'll continue to have
plenty of money.

Oh, Monsieur Lheureux.

...more patriotism than in
the country...

I'm sure everybody's asking

why a man like you would come to
a village fair like this.

Why? Well, because I've run out
of excuses.

For weeks I brought my man to
your husband,

until not even I could
pretend he was still ailing.

So now I'm reduced to
agricultural shows.

Madame Bovary.

You villain.

So now you want to risk my
reputation in public places.

What alternative do I have,

since you won't let me risk it
in private?

...the welfare of
the seaman, the fisherman,

the rich man in his château,

upon the broad hands of the
agriculturalist,

guiding his plow...

...sowing his seed, reaping his
harvest,

planting his cabbages,

depends our great industrial
centers

where commerce and fine arts are
flourishing.

But the farmer's crying for
fertilizer,

and there is no fertilizer.

Shall we listen to the speech?

My husband's sitting not 30 feet
from that window.

My darling, I know what you're
going through.

Your duties, your loyalties,
your chains.

But this face...

Now, before heaven, must this
face be wasted

on the shopkeepers of Yonville?

This face that haunts me, drugs
me...

Rodolphe...

These hands that were
designed for a thousand pleasures.

These lips.

Were they meant to speak of love
or grocery lists?

Don't, Rodolphe, don't.

Now we ask for manure.

We demand manure for the further
development...

I adore you.

Now Dr. Charles Bovary.

Gentlemen, as Monsieur Canivet

has so happily remarked...

That's my husband.

...about our fair, fair land,

everywhere commerce and the arts
are flourishing.

Be careful. They'll see us.

...means of communication,

like so many new arteries...

Well, then for heaven's
sake, let's go where they can't.

...establish within it
new relations...

Why, I've got to be down
there while he's speaking.

Why?

I can't hurt him that way. I...

No, Rodolphe, don't touch me.
Please. No.

...a brash imposter...

- When will I see you?
- Rodolphe, \...

Have you a horse? Do you ever
ride?

Now just tell me, do you ever
ride?

No, please.

...you artists,

expecting neither glory nor
praise.

The same can be said of the
village doctor.

Idiot! Murderer! You might have
poisoned us all!

Do you want to see me in a
prisoner's dock with criminals?

Do you want to see me dragged
off to the scaffold?

Speak! Answer me!
Articulate! Say something!

You told me to get you a spare
pan.

Did I tell you to get it from my
laboratory?

Look. You see this jar?

You see what it says?
"Dangerous."

Do you know what's in it?
Arsenic.

You've taken a pan that was next
to it.

- Monsieur Homais.
- Oh, you imbecile...

Oh, Madame Bovary.

Oh, you've no idea what I have
to contend with.

Sometimes I'm horrified myself

when I think of my responsibilities.

Monsieur Homais, may I speak to
you

for a moment alone, please?

Please. Justin, put down that
jar.

Go back into the kitchen.
Madame.

- Monsieur Homais...
- If you please.

Uh, yesterday at the fair when
you said that

if you were a physician
you could cure Hyppolite...

Madame Bovary, you mean to
say you were listening to me?

I'm dumbfounded, but I'm very
flattered.

You said that a doctor could win
the Legion of Honor.

Well, I said, but no one would
listen to me that...

Could he really win the Legion
of Honor?

Well, I'll only say that if
an obscure village doctor

could perform such a great feat,

his name would be blazoned
across France...

You're sure it can be done?

My dear lady, I have all the
information here.

All the literature...

- Why do you ask?
- Charles will do it.

- Charles?
- Oh, Monsieur Homais.

If he could only be important
and famous and

and people listen to him.

He'll do it. I'll talk to him.

Uh, have you said anything to
him yet?

No, but I will.

- You're afraid he can't do it?
- No, no, not at all.

Why, any physician... It's
simple surgery.

It's merely a matter
of following directions.

It has been done, hasn't it?

Well, I won't say that it's been
done,

but the method has been
perfected.

Madame Bovary, it is typical

of the threshold of the great
advances of science.

First, the method. Second, the
practice...

Ah, this is inspiration.

You'll help him? You'll find all
the books?

Help him?

I shall devote every waking
moment to this great project.

Charles, you'd be famous.

You'd be known and respected.

And Homais will help you.

He's finding more articles about
it now.

Where? Where's he looking for
them?

In some butcher's catalog?

Charles Bovary, the butcher of
Yonville.

Why do you want to talk like
that?

Because I don't want to talk
about it at all.

Emma, I don't say that it can't
be done.

Perhaps. How do I know?

But I do say that for me to
attempt an operation like this

would be butchery.

How many times have I told
you that I am no surgeon?

I'm not even a good doctor.

I have a right to be a doctor

just as long as I know my
limitations.

Why did you ever think
up something like this?

Do you want me to love you or
don't you?

What?

Don't you understand that I'm
trying?

I know you love me. I know
you're good to me.

Oh, I'd rather you were
worthless

and dashing and brutal

and that you'd strike any
man who looked at me.

Emma, this is storybook.

Oh, I don't want you like
that. I don't expect it of you.

But if only you could be famous.

If you could be the kind of man
who wears the Legion of Honor.

Charles, you could push me aside
and ignore me,

but how I could love you.

This is still storybook.

I can't help it. It's how I am.

Save me, Charles.

Save me, before I...

Before what?

I don't know.

I don't know.

Dr. Bovary is your benefactor.
This isn't costing you a sou!

Look. The whole village is
cheering you!

Already you're a famous case!

You'll be a hero to Yonville, to
all France, and if --

Leave him alone.

I don't want to be a hero.

What are you afraid of? You'll
feel no pain.

Well, practically n-no pain at
all.

A mere snip.

No worse than the extraction of
certain corns.

But how jolly and brisk you'll
feel afterwards.

And how much handsomer you'll
be.

Huh? Aha!

Come, come, man. Where is your
vanity?

You want to be rid of that
hideous deformity, don't you?

Eh? And be like other people?

Yes, indeed.

And what a fine figure you'll
cut strolling around, huh?

And how you'll please the
ladies.

Oh!

Who knows but what you may be
dancing with the girls

at the next village festivities,
huh?

Oh, you'll be a gay dog, a gay
dog.

I can see now there'll be no
st--

stopping you.

I'm gonna dance with the girls.

Go on, Hyppolite. I'm not able
to cure you.

Go on back to work.

- What are you doing?!
- Let go of him.

Dr. Bovary.

There'll be no operation.

If I'm a blunderer, all
right, but I'll not make him

or anyone else the victim of my
blunders.

- Fool.
- You disgrace our village.

What happened?

Charles. The operation.

I, uh...

...I didn't perform it.

How could she have gone riding?
I had the horse.

She...

Monsieur Lheureux, the linen
draper,

he brought her a horse this
morning.

I... I believe she bought it.

- Oh, Charles.
- Where have you been?

Riding. I tried to come in
quietly, but --

Why?

Oh, I don't know. I... I have a
headache.

The riding. Some other time.

- You bought a horse.
- I'll pay for it myself.

- I'll use my dowry.
- Your dowry's all gone.

-I don't want to talk ---Where
did you go?

Do I have to come in and report
to you?

Am I a child? Can't I leave the
house?

I can't have this, I can't have
that.

Emma, look at me. Don't go away
from me.

- I'm so tired.
- I don't care about the money.

I know you don't, Charles.

Please.

I love you so much, Emma. You
know I love you.

I know you do, Charles.

I know you do.

Good night.

Please.

It's almost noon.

Oh, why must it always be time
to go home?

You. I know. You're glad.

You want to call your dogs
and go back to your hunting.

The pheasants are excellent this
year.

Oh, you beast.

I could take my revenge on you,
Rodolphe.

You know I could.

I could straighten up this room.

The way you live,

with everything piled every
which way.

Guns and boots and pipes and...
magazines and books.

I like it.

What a woman could do to this
house.

Oh, I know what a woman could do
to this house.

She could destroy it.

And you, you witch, if the woman
were you...

I'm in love.

Like a silly schoolboy, I'm
falling in love.

That this should have happened
to me.

- Oh, Rodolphe.
- I'm bewitched.

I'm losing my interest in
pheasant.

I wake up in the morning.

Do I think of my best
hunter that went lame?

No, I think of you crossing the
fields,

and I hope you aren't seen.

I am losing my senses.

You possess me. You possess my
house.

You know every corner of it as
if it were yours.

I detest this intrusion.

I adore my bachelor privacy.

But I adore you more.

Oh, Rodolphe.

Rodolphe.

Am I joking?

Your letters.

- And what are these?
- Other letters.

St. Petersburg.

Rome.

Paris.

I kept souvenirs when I was
young.

I no longer bother.

I don't like it, Rodolphe.

It's my life. I do.

- Don't torture me.
- Don't destroy me.

Tomorrow?

Isn't it wonderful?

- A new spread...
- Nightgown!

...and a new nightgown! Yes.

- Hello, darling.
- Isn't she a sweetie pie?

- I'll put her to bed.
- But I always --

Is she my child or isn't she?

-But she's used to -- -Hello,
darling.

Oh! There, darling.

Darling, darling, it's just
Mommy.

Oh, we'll take her shoes off,
huh?

We'll take the shoes off. Oh,
darling.

Here. Mommy will sing to you.

Oh, no, darling. Darling.

Félicité! Félicité!

Oh, baby, baby.

Here. Let me put that on you.

[Crying continues

Sunset. They go down for water.

Would you take me away,
Rodolphe?

We have a few more minutes.

No, I... I meant away.

You and I, Rodolphe --

someplace, somewhere where it's
only ourselves

and... and we'd never have to go
home.

I... I don't want to go home.

We could never come back, Emma.

Your... Your husband.

I can't face him. I can't look
at him.

I go home, and I...

Your child.

Oh, this is where dreams leave
off, Emma.

You know how we'd live.
We couldn't take her with us.

I know.

How long can I pretend
that I have any right to her?

I lost her, Rodolphe. I lost her
to Charles.

I've even lost her to my
servant.

But, Madame Bovary, two
traveling trunks

and traveling clothes.

An entire southern wardrobe.

These notes. Nothing yet paid on
these notes.

But you renewed them for me --
at twice the interest.

Surely. Surely.

But I am a businessman,
and I must consider the risk.

There isn't any risk.

I'm going to Italy. I'm taking a
holiday.

Of course.

Why don't I just speak to your
husband about it?

- No.
- Isn't your husband going?

Well, he-- he's busy.

- His practice...
- I see.

Of course, if some reputable
gentleman

were willing to countersign
these notes

your husband, for instance, or
the master of La Huchette.

Uh, what's his name? Uh...

Monsieur Boulanger.

What are you saying?

His name just happened to come
to my mind.

This is impudent.

I hardly know Monsieur
Boulanger.

I am a discreet man, Madame
Bovary.

I am in the business of making
money.

I leave matters of morals to the
priests,

to the philosophers.

I ask only one question -- What
is the risk?

I'll make out a note.

I'm afraid it will have to
be for double the value

of the merchandise received.

Now, if I know from your lips

that you are going off with
the master of La Huchette,

then I shall not hesitate to
accept this note.

Even if you don't come back,
I'll have confidence

that someone will pay it.

Who do you mean? Charles?

- When are you leaving?
- Friday a week.

By what means of transportation?

The mail coach in the evening.

The mail coach doesn't stop in
Yonville.

Rodolphe will arrange it.

Excellent.

Your trunks will be waiting
in the front of my shop.

The coach can pick them up here

and your husband be never the
wiser.

Mama.

Madame Bovary?

I hope you like Italy. I've
never been there myself.

Wait!

There's a basket of fruit on the
table there,

from La Huchette.

No, I didn't open it.

Emma.

Emma?

Emma!

Emma!

Emma!

Emma!

- Emma!
- No!

What are you -- Emma!

Emma!

No!

The letter. The letter.

Doctor, what is it?

Please.

Emma...

...can you see this?

Can you see what I have here?

It's the letter.

I haven't read it.

Darling, please try to understand me.

Can you see what I'm doing?

Emma... can you see this?

Can you see it?

Rodolphe.

Rodolphe.

Was it sickness?

If sickness, was it of the body
or of the soul?

The summer fled.

Autumn pursued it

down the empty spaces of
half-forgetfulness.

And then, in the winter months,
Emma recovered.

She recovered, that is,

in the sense that she did not
die.

But while Emma had given
up all hope, Charles had not.

- Oh, you stupid dunce!
- Oh!

Look what you've done to my
beautiful frock.

Oh, my lovely gown and
now you've just ruined it!

- Why, Charles Bovary!
- How could you be so stupid?

Leon Dupuis!

- Uh, my apologies.
- Stupid idiot.

Same old Charles.

This is delightful. Delightful.

The mustache, the clothes.

You see, it's an old friend of
mine.

Well, what in the world are you
doing in Rouen?

- I thought you were in Paris.
- Oh, it's a long story.

What are you doing in Rouen? You
never leave Yonville.

- Come! I writhe with curiosity.
- Emma --

You -- You can join us, can't
you?

Of course.

Drink it... and then faint.

Look.

Leon.

Leon Dupuis.

Charles, you knew he
was in Rouen all the time.

- No.
- You arranged it.

No. It was luck. It was absolute
luck.

He won't even tell me why he
left Paris.

Look at him.

The -- The man of the
boulevards.

Why did you leave Paris?

No mystery.

There was a law firm here
in Rouen, a-a partnership.

Oh, the sacrifices one makes

on the doubtful altar of
success.

Shh!

Oh. I'm sorry.

Our own Leon, a lawyer.

Shh.

Then I said that I-I
did like the opera --

everything except the music.

Oh, no. It's -- It's all over.
Here come the people.

I wish we hadn't missed the
third act.

Oh, you know you couldn't have
stood another minute of it.

That dreadful Lagardy.

Precisely.

Why, in Paris, Lagardy
is regarded as quite, uh...

Oh, really?

I-I-I was just beginning to like
him.

Oh, darling.

You're the most wonderfully
stubborn man alive.

I wouldn't know about that.

I only know I'm the happiest.

You should be happy.

Well, you didn't have to watch
Lagardy's third-act performance.

In Paris, you know, he's
considered a has-been.

But here in the provinces, I
suppose we're still impressed

with his reputation with women.

His what? Oh, Leon, tell us.

Didn't you know?

Why, he's quite notorious.
Countesses, duchesses.

No.

Oh, I should have stayed for the
third act.

- Oh!
- No. I mean it.

Darling, you should have forced
me to stay.

I should have -- Oh, no. I must
be drunk.

Waiter, bring me the bill,
please.

You know, my -- my head goes
around and around.

- Oh, here, Charles. Let me --
- No, no, no.

You know, we could come back
tomorrow night

to see the third act.

Darling, why don't we stay over
an extra day?

Oh, no. I can't.

All my patients are
waiting for me to get back

so that they can die.

What a pity.

Do you know, that third act

does have some fascinating
moments in it.

The great aria.

Oh, I can't bear it! I
want to see the third act.

Oh, you know, I'll -- I'll
never understand a woman.

Well, you stay. You stay over
until Sunday.

No. No. We have to go back.

No, no. You -- You stay
over at the Croix Rouge.

I'll go home. I hate Lagardy.

Darling, be serious. May I?

Yes! Of course.

Make him take you. He likes
Lagardy.

Oh, Charles, you are a darling.

- Monsieur Dupuis?
- No, no. Go away, please.

Boy, what is it?

Are you Monsieur Dupuis?

- Yes, yes. What is it?
- This note.

What are you doing in my room?
sent you a note.

I don't find it satisfactory.

People from Yonville stay here.
Somebody may have seen you.

You'll treasure the memory
of our friendship in Yonville.

Please get out.

My woman of the world.

Flirt with me in public, lead me
along,

then in private -- "Oh, no. Go
away. Get out."

I meant it.

I meant what I said in that
note.

You spoiled, ridiculous child!

A horrid little rendezvous... in
a horrid little hotel.

Is this what you think I am?

The way you deceived Charles.

The way you tricked him.

The way I tricked him?

Can't you be ashamed? Charles is
your friend.

- He trusts you.
- Charles!

You know it isn't Charles.

What happened?

You're dressed. You intended to
meet me!

Is this where I end up?

A dirty little hotel
bedroom, broken mirrors...

no curtains on the windows?

Don't, Emma.

You know me, Leon.

This wasn't what I ever wanted.

Did I ever want anything cheap
or ugly?

No, Emma.

No.

Is it a crime to want things to
be... beautiful?

I love you, Emma.

No. Somebody saw you.

Somebody must have seen you.

Nobody saw me.

Well?

Where's Dr. Bovary? Isn't he
home?

He was called away. He won't be
home until tomorrow.

What happened?

He's gone to Doudeville. His
father died.

Poor Charles. What a pity.

Uh, hello, Berthe.

Myself, I felt sorrowful for the
master.

What do you mean? That I don't?

I mean with so much happening -

his wife away and his father and
the bills.

The bills? What bills?

Something with this linen-draper
fellow.

How should I know?

I signed those notes.

You agreed.

My husband wasn't to know about
it.

I'm pressed for money myself.

But you went to him. You broke
your word.

Don't be alarmed.

I only showed him a bill for
1,000 francs.

Poor man. If he knew the whole
amount...

Monsieur Lheureux, t-this isn't
the time.

He's upset.

His father and the funeral and
settling the estate.

The estate? What's it worth?

I don't know.

Find out. Sell it.

How could I? It belongs to
Charles.

At least investigate it.

Do you know anyone who could
handle it for you?

I...

I know a lawyer in Rouen.

- He's quite successful.
- Excellent.

Madame Bovary, why do I have to
instruct you?

You are a clever woman.

Your husband is not a clever
man.

All right. He's upset.

When he comes back from
Doudeville, share his burdens.

Save him from the sad business
of settling his father's estate.

Get him to give you his power of
attorney.

Take it to your lawyer in Rouen.
Have the estate investigated.

If it's worth anything, sell it

and report back to your husband
that it was worthless.

Madame Bovary, you don't seem to
understand

that you are in trouble.

That'll be all. Thank you.

Uh, could I get you some, uh...

No. No. Nothing. Thank you.

Oh, you're here.

I meant to be here when you
arrived.

Well, I got here earlier than I
expected.

I-I brought all the papers about
the estate.

Oh, my partners will take care
of it.

We have a whole week for that.

I think they're all here. Let's
see.

Oh, yes. Here-- Here's the power
of attorney.

Emma... aren't you glad to see
me?

Of course I am.

I must apologize for the room.

It's hardly in the best of
taste,

but I did have to find a place
where you wouldn't be known.

-I'm afraid the decorations
-Leon.

I love it.

Put those things down and get
out of here!

We don't want anything.

Wait. There is something we
want.

Bring us some champagne.

Well, you heard the
lady. Champagne, quickly!

Dupuis!

Yes, sir?

Who is this Madame Emma Bovary?

Why, uh, nobody, Monsieur
Dubocage.

Uh, nobody special.

Where have you been all this
week?

Well, uh... I was ill, sir.

III? Have I a clerk in
this office or haven't I?

- You have no right to be ill.
- I beg your pardon, sir.

- It won't happen again, sir.
- Get back to your desk.

The papers.

You said you wanted new
business, sir.

New business? This? I've had a
report on it.

It's nothing but worthless
trash.

I, um, I wondered, sir an
advance on my wages?

Physician's fees, you know.

Physician's fees. Let that be
the last.

Thank you, sir.

Dupuis.

Tell the woman goodbye.

Oh, Leon. I waited and waited.

Our last day.

I have to go back to Yonville in
the morning.

Aren't they worth anything at
all?

We had, uh, endless conferences,
my partners and I.

They are very conservative men,
of course, but still...

..they agree -- The
estate isn't worth anything.

The power of attorney
is there with the papers.

I'm afraid you won't need it.

Oh, Emma. Let's forget it.
What's money?

You can afford to say that.

You've got money.

Why is it that I should suddenly
be overwhelmed

with the vulgarity of this room?

Oh, Emma.

Someday you and I, we'll go to
Paris.

You and I, Emma. I-I swear it.

Someday, Leon...

I'll probably stop hoping for
anything.

Here. No more sadness.

Go dress yourself.

We'll dine -- the Café de Paris.

We'll subdue our sorrows with
wine and music.

I'll go and dress.

Good evening.

- Morning, Monsieur Guillaumin.
- Morning.

- Morning, Monsieur Homais.
- Morning, Monsieur.

Goodbye!

Good morning, Madame Lefrancois.

Good morning, Monsieur Lheureux!

A pleasant day.

Good morning, Hyppolite.

Why did you come here?
You can't come in.

I only wanted a few words with
your husband.

In there, please.

- You can't stay.
- Really, Madame Bovary.

I've pledged our house, our
furniture,

everything we own.

What more do you want?

To see your husband. Just a few
words.

You said that if I signed
his name to those notes

and gave you power of
attorney, you'd leave me alone,

you wouldn't say anything.

I have no intention of saying
anything.

I am no talebearer.

Then what do you want?

You want something more.

I come here with nothing
whatsoever to gain.

I ask to see your husband
out of a sense of decency,

in the spirit of justice, as
his friend and neighbor.

It seems only friendly
that he should know.

Monsieur Guillaumin is preparing
to take legal action.

Monsieur Guillaumin?

Well... what has he to do with it?

I needed money, so I sold your
papers to him.

So, you see, it's really
quite out of my hands now.

You'd take our house?

I?

Madame Bovary, I repeat --

I no longer have anything to do
with it.

If Monsieur Guillaumin chooses
to take your house...

- You scoundrel!
- I beg your pardon.

-You monster!

-It's hardly becoming

for a woman of your
character to start calling names.

I've tolerated your conduct for
too long.

The things I have witnessed.

The cheating, the lying, the
insatiable greed.

What iniquities. What sordid
passions.

Your child and your husband
deceived,

all morals abandoned, every
loyalty forsworn

while you indulged yourself
with any man that came your way.

-Oh, don't. Please ---And
now you call me names.

I am in the business of making
money, Madame Bovary,

a
recognized, honorable profession,

a profession which I am
confident

bears public comparison with
yours.

Please.

I beg of you, go.

I beg of you humbly.

Please go.

- Good morning, Madame Tuvache.
- Good morning.

- Good morning, Monsieur Binet.
- Good morning!

Is Monsieur Guillaumin in?

Yes, he is.

Monsieur Guillaumin.

Why, Madame Bovary.

Please do forgive me for coming
so early, but --

Quite all right. Will you join
me?

Oh, no, thank you. Please go on.

You see, a dreadful matter
has just come to my attention.

Yes, yes.

Unfortunate, these matters of
money.

I... I haven't wanted to bother
my husband about it.

Of course not. I can well
understand.

Monsieur Lheureux, he said...

he said that you were going to
take some kind of legal action.

Now, just what would that be?

Oh, natural course of events

a judgment against the property,
a bailiff,

a seizure of said property, a
sale.

Oh, no.

I can't believe you'd do that.

I would be happy if it could be
avoided.

Oh, I knew you weren't that kind
of man.

Of course not. Of course not.

Nothing peremptory, shall we
say?

Of course I -- We can pay.

I have many rich friends
who would be willing to help us

- if it were necessary.
- Yes.

I understand a certain party
has recently returned from Italy.

They should have every reason to
help you,

according to these details.

You see, I have asked our friend
Lheureux

to put them in writing.

Amazing.

My old friend Leon Dupuis.

Oh, I'm quite discreet. After
all -- business.

This is monstrous.

Quite the contrary. I find it
fascinating.

Who would have guessed
it? Our own Madame Bovary.

Now, come, come, come. Let's not
be shy about it.

Why, I found the details most
appealing.

Now, my dear, I'm a reasonable
man.

I'm not like that Lheureux.

After all, money's not everything to me.

Why, Madame Bovary,

I'm sure you and I can work some
detail between us.

Let go of me.

Oh, what a sly little thing you
are.

I-I didn't want to, Leon.

Who else do I have to come to?

I-I didn't want to.

Well, I am sure you didn't.

B-But after all, 15,000
francs, it's a fortune to me, yes,

but-- but to you, with all your
-- your connections

and all your success -

Don't laugh at me, Leon.

Don't humiliate me.

Humiliate you?

All my success.

Why, I'm still a clerk.

I'm still a clerk. I've lied to
you.

I'm still a stupid little clerk,
sitting on a high, stupid stool

that I'll never get off till the
day I die.

Now you can laugh.

All my success.

I failed in Yonville.

I failed in Paris.

Now I can't even succeed

at pretending that I am what I
am not.

I thought you'd hate me.

Did you see the master in Rouen?

He went in last night. He went
looking for you.

- Has he come back yet?
- No.

Well, isn't it proper for me to
forgive you?

Surely other women have forgiven
you.

Or isn't that fair?

It's fair enough.

I just don't happen to remember
you in terms of other women.

How was Italy?

Can't you guess? Without you?

Oh, I'm -- I'm sure you
found other amusement.

Why should I deny it?

Emma, why did you come here to
see me?

Why, I...

I came to tell you that I
forgive you.

You're pale.

Those lines around your
eyes I don't remember them.

I-I'm sure there's a great
deal you don't remember.

Would you offer me some brandy?

Oh, Rodolphe, forgive me.

Being here again, seeing you
again, I...

I suppose in a way I still love
you.

To the happiest of memories...
and the saddest.

Why didn't you take me with you?

Don't, Emma.

If you loved me, why
didn't you take me with you?

I'm a fairly courageous man,
Emma, but I was afraid of you.

No. Oh...

Oh, I-I ask for too much.
I know it.

I-I expected too much of you --

You asked for something
that consumes while it burns,

that destroys everything it
touches.

I didn't want to be destroyed.

Rodolphe -- Rodolphe, if I
promised...

Oh, I-I was childish. I confess
it.

We all have to grow up, you
know.

Supposing I-I promised never
to expect too much of you again.

Oh. Well, don't look so gloomy.

Really. I swear it. I'd
never ask too much of you.

Oh, Emma.

Well, you -- you can at
least look at me, can't you?

I'm not that unattractive, am I?

I'm not that pale.

My eyes, they -- they
aren't that ugly, are they?

Oh, here.

Here.

I need money.

Money.

Fifteen thousand francs.

Why didn't I know it was...
money?

Oh, I love you. I do love you. I
swear it.

Oh, get up, Emma. I can't stand
it.

Only 15,000 francs. I'll do
anything you ask.

I'll never ask too much of you.
Believe me.

I believe you.

I pity you.

And I don't have it.

You don't...

Why should I share your
humiliation?

Go home. You're destroyed.

I said I'm afraid of you.

I said... I don't have it.

You don't have it.

You don't have it.

I'd have given my life for you.

I'd have begged on the high
roads.

I'd have stolen for you.

I'd have worked on my hands and
knees.

I said I don't have it.

The bell? At this hour of the
night?

Who can that be?

Well, just don't stand there. Go
see who it is.

No! No!

Don't. Don't.

If you say one word, if you make
one sound,

I shall say that you gave it to
me by mistake.

Say one word, Justin.

Make one sound.

Justin! Who was it? Justin!

You've seen this?

I said have you seen this?

Come to your senses.

I'm not going to ask where
you've been.

I know where you've been.

I'm not going to ask where you
were in Rouen.

I can guess where you were in
Rouen.

Don't hate me, Charles.

Don't hate me now.

What's the matter with you?

Emma.

What is it?

Arsenic.

Arsenic!

Don't let go. Don't let go,
Emma.

There'll be another doctor here
by morning.

No. No.

I hurt, Charles.

I hurt inside.

You're crying.

No, Emma.

Always trying to save me.

Why are you always trying to
save me?

I love you, Emma.

You came in out of the rain, and
you were so wet...

and you'd come so far.

Please.

Please, please, please

Where are we, Charles?

Is this our house?

Yes. This is our house.

I'm going to make you...
the most beautiful home.

Like... Like pictures in
magazines...

when I was a child.

There-- There's not something
wrong

with things being beautiful, is
there?

N-No, Emma. There...

What did I do?

Hold me, Charles.

Hold me.

Through this holy unction...

and through His divine mercy,

may the Lord pardon all the
sins that you have committed

through the sense of hearing.

Amen.

Through this holy unction...

and through His divine mercy,

may the Lord pardon all the sins
that you have committed

through the sense of sight.

Amen.

Through this holy unction
and through His divine mercy,

may the Lord pardon all the
sins that you have committed

by the sense of taste and of
speech.

Amen.

Through this holy unction and
through His divine mercy,

may the Lord pardon all the sins
that you have committed

through the sense of touch.

Amen.

And so it was.

A woman had been born into this
world

and had died young.

She had touched on numerous
lives...

...some lightly...

...some not so lightly.

Some despised her.

Some mourned her... a little.

Some profited by her.

And then, of course, there
were those she had ruined,

who would never cease to love
her.

Now there are those who are
offended by her

and who see in Emma Bovary's
life

an attack upon public morality.

Gentlemen of the court,

I maintain that there is truth
in her story

and that a morality which
has within it no room for truth

is no morality at all.

Men may dislike truth.

Men may find truth offensive and
inconvenient.

Men may persecute the truth,
subvert it,

try by law to suppress it.

But to maintain that men
have the final power over truth

is blasphemy... and the last
illusion.

Truth lives forever.

Men do not.