Page 234 - madame-bovary

having buckled his patient into the machine, went home,
where Emma, all anxiety, awaited him at the door. She
threw herself on his neck; they sat down to table; he ate
much, and at dessert he even wanted to take a cup of coffee,
a luxury he only permitted himself on Sundays when there
was company.
The evening was charming, full of prattle, of dreams
together. They talked about their future fortune, of the
improvements to be made in their house; he saw people’s
estimation of him growing, his comforts increasing, his
wife always loving him; and she was happy to refresh herself
with a new sentiment, healthier, better, to feel at last some
tenderness for this poor fellow who adored her. The thought
of Rodolphe for one moment passed through her mind, but
her eyes turned again to Charles; she even noticed with sur-
prise that he had not bad teeth.
They were in bed when Monsieur Homais, in spite of the
servant, suddenly entered the room, holding in his hand a
sheet of paper just written. It was the paragraph he intend-
ed for the ‘Fanal de Rouen.’ He brought it for them to read.
‘Read it yourself,’ said Bovary.
He read—
‘ ‘Despite the prejudices that still invest a part of the face
of Europe like a net, the light nevertheless begins to pene-
trate our country places. Thus on Tuesday our little town of
Yonville found itself the scene of a surgical operation which
is at the same time an, act of loftiest philanthropy. Monsieur
Bovary, one of our, most distinguished practitioners—‘’
‘Oh, that is too much! too much!’ said Charles, choking