Page 160 - madame-bovary

Homais wept, Justin sobbed; Homais, as a man of nerve,
concealed his emotion; he wished to carry his friend’s over-
coat himself as far as the gate of the notary, who was taking
Leon to Rouen in his carriage.
The latter had just time to bid farewell to Monsieur Bova-
ry.
When he reached the head of the stairs, he stopped, he
was so out of breath. As he came in, Madame Bovary arose
hurriedly.
‘It is I again!’ said Leon.
‘I was sure of it!’
She bit her lips, and a rush of blood flowing under her
skin made her red from the roots of her hair to the top of
her collar. She remained standing, leaning with her shoul-
der against the wainscot.
‘The doctor is not here?’ he went on.
‘He is out.’ She repeated, ‘He is out.’
Then there was silence. They looked at one another and
their thoughts, confounded in the same agony, clung close
together like two throbbing breasts.
‘I should like to kiss Berthe,’ said Leon.
Emma went down a few steps and called Felicite.
He threw one long look around him that took in the
walls, the decorations, the fireplace, as if to penetrate ev-
erything, carry away everything. But she returned, and the
servant brought Berthe, who was swinging a windmill roof
downwards at the end of a string. Leon kissed her several
times on the neck.
‘Good-bye, poor child! good-bye, dear little one! good-

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