Page 242 - madame-bovary

to me inclined to apoplexy. Besides, that doesn’t astonish me,
for you chemist fellows are always poking about your kitch-
ens, which must end by spoiling your constitutions. Now
just look at me. I get up every day at four o’clock; I shave
with cold water (and am never cold). I don’t wear flannels,
and I never catch cold; my carcass is good enough! I live
now in one way, now in another, like a philosopher, taking
pot-luck; that is why I am not squeamish like you, and it is
as indifferent to me to carve a Christian as the first fowl that
turns up. Then, perhaps, you will say, habit! habit!’
Then, without any consideration for Hippolyte, who was
sweating with agony between his sheets, these gentlemen
entered into a conversation, in which the druggist com-
pared the coolness of a surgeon to that of a general; and this
comparison was pleasing to Canivet, who launched out on
the exigencies of his art. He looked upon, it as a sacred of-
fice, although the ordinary practitioners dishonoured it. At
last, coming back to the patient, he examined the bandag-
es brought by Homais, the same that had appeared for the
club-foot, and asked for someone to hold the limb for him.
Lestiboudois was sent for, and Monsieur Canivet having
turned up his sleeves, passed into the billiard-room, while
the druggist stayed with Artemise and the landlady, both
whiter than their aprons, and with ears strained towards
the door.
Bovary during this time did not dare to stir from his
house.
He kept downstairs in the sitting-room by the side of the
fireless chimney, his chin on his breast, his hands clasped,

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