Page 157 - madame-bovary

ill.’
He had stayed a long time at the chemist’s. Although he
had not seemed much moved, Homais, nevertheless, had
exerted himself to buoy him up, to ‘keep up his spirits.’
Then they had talked of the various dangers that threaten
childhood, of the carelessness of servants. Madame Homais
knew something of it, having still upon her chest the marks
left by a basin full of soup that a cook had formerly dropped
on her pinafore, and her good parents took no end of trou-
ble for her. The knives were not sharpened, nor the floors
waxed; there were iron gratings to the windows and strong
bars across the fireplace; the little Homais, in spite of their
spirit, could not stir without someone watching them; at
the slightest cold their father stuffed them with pectorals;
and until they were turned four they all, without pity, had
to wear wadded head-protectors. This, it is true, was a fancy
of Madame Homais’; her husband was inwardly afflicted at
it. Fearing the possible consequences of such compression
to the intellectual organs. He even went so far as to say to
her, ‘Do you want to make Caribs or Botocudos of them?’
Charles, however, had several times tried to interrupt the
conversation. ‘I should like to speak to you,’ he had whis-
pered in the clerk’s ear, who went upstairs in front of him.
‘Can he suspect anything?’ Leon asked himself. His heart
beat, and he racked his brain with surmises.
At last, Charles, having shut the door, asked him to
see himself what would be the price at Rouen of a fine da-
guerreotypes. It was a sentimental surprise he intended for
his wife, a delicate attention—his portrait in a frock-coat.

1 Madame Bovary