Page 222 - madame-bovary

‘Nevertheless,’ replied the tax-collector, with a sly look,
‘there are people who like it.’
She was stifling.
‘And give me—‘
‘Will he never go?’ thought she.
‘Half an ounce of resin and turpentine, four ounces of
yellow wax, and three half ounces of animal charcoal, if you
please, to clean the varnished leather of my togs.’
The druggist was beginning to cut the wax when Ma-
dame Homais appeared, Irma in her arms, Napoleon by her
side, and Athalie following. She sat down on the velvet seat
by the window, and the lad squatted down on a footstool,
while his eldest sister hovered round the jujube box near
her papa. The latter was filling funnels and corking phials,
sticking on labels, making up parcels. Around him all were
silent; only from time to time, were heard the weights jin-
gling in the balance, and a few low words from the chemist
giving directions to his pupil.
‘And how’s the little woman?’ suddenly asked Madame
Homais.
‘Silence!’ exclaimed her husband, who was writing down
some figures in his waste-book.
‘Why didn’t you bring her?’ she went on in a low voice.
‘Hush! hush!’ said Emma, pointing with her finger to the
druggist.
But Binet, quite absorbed in looking over his bill, had
probably heard nothing. At last he went out. Then Emma,
relieved, uttered a deep sigh.
‘How hard you are breathing!’ said Madame Homais.

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