Emma and Berthe

One of the most heart breaking passages in any novel I've read so far, is the passage in Madame Bovary where Emma, despite all customs, health precautions and traditions, visits her infant daughter Berthe where she is kept for the first months of her life. The baby is not with Emma and Charles, she is entrusted to an impoverished wet-nurse. Emma can't stand being alone without her daughter and rushes to see her at the nurse's, mère Rollet, house.

The house is not very tidy but little Berthe seems to have a rather good time there, being breast fed by a semi-starving woman. She vomits when Emma picks her up from her cot, so she must have some milk inside her. This seems to have been common among the middle class in France at the time period, for Flaubert doesn't hint at Emma doing something peculiar in sending her infant away like that. 

Small wonder Emma becomes more and more alienated from herself when she is not even allowed to bond with her own baby daughter. The rebellious act of seeing her daughter before the six weeks of seclusion after the delivery was over, shows that Emma had some common sense after all. Sadly she didn't bring her baby girl home. Instead she promises to buy some extra soap and coffee for the wet-nurse who have troubles getting enough sleep at night with the new born by her side.

When the baby moves back to her parents Emma shoves her away and shows her precious little attention and no affection at all. The little girl tries to reach for her absent minded mother:

«la petite Berthe était là, qui chancelait sur ses bottines de tricot et essayait de se rapprocher de sa mère pour lui saisor, par le bout, les rubans de son tablier.

- Laisse-moi! dit celle-ci en l'écartant avec la main.
La petite fille bientôt revint plus près encore contre ses genoux; et, s'y appuyant des bras, elle levait vers elle son gros œil bleu, pendant qu'un filet de salive pure découlait de sa lèvre sur la soie du tablier.

- Laisse-moi! répéta la jeune femme tout irritée. Sa figure épovanta l'enfant, qui se mit à crier.

-Eh ! laisse-moi donc! fit-elle en la repoussant du coude.

Berthe alla tomber au pied de la commode, contre la patère de cuivre; elle s'y coupa la joue, le sang sortit. Madame Bovary se précipita pour la relever [...]appela la servante de toutes ses forces, et elle allait commencer à se maudire [...]Berthe, en effet, ne sanglotait plus. Sa respiration, maintenant, soulevait insensiblement la couverture de coton. De grosses larmes s'arrêtaient au coin de ses paupières à demi closes, qui laissaient voir entre les cils deux prunelles pâlés, enfoncées;le sparardap, collé sur sa joue, en tirait obliquement la peau tendue.

- C'est une chose étrange, pensait Emma, comme cette enfant est laide!» p.180-181

Poor Berthe and poor Emma. What will become of them?