Page 298 - madame-bovary

waving of the fans, made the air more suffocating. Emma
wanted to go out; the crowd filled the corridors, and she
fell back in her arm-chair with palpitations that choked her.
Charles, fearing that she would faint, ran to the refresh-
ment-room to get a glass of barley-water.
He had great difficulty in getting back to his seat, for his
elbows were jerked at every step because of the glass he held
in his hands, and he even spilt three-fourths on the shoulders
of a Rouen lady in short sleeves, who feeling the cold liquid
running down to her loins, uttered cries like a peacock, as if
she were being assassinated. Her husband, who was a mil-
lowner, railed at the clumsy fellow, and while she was with
her handkerchief wiping up the stains from her handsome
cherry-coloured taffeta gown, he angrily muttered about
indemnity, costs, reimbursement. At last Charles reached
his wife, saying to her, quite out of breath—
‘Ma foi! I thought I should have had to stay there. There
is such a crowd—SUCH a crowd!’
He added—
‘Just guess whom I met up there! Monsieur Leon!’
‘Leon?’
‘Himself! He’s coming along to pay his respects.’ And as
he finished these words the ex-clerk of Yonville entered the
box.
He held out his hand with the ease of a gentleman; and
Madame Bovary extended hers, without doubt obeying the
attraction of a stronger will. She had not felt it since that
spring evening when the rain fell upon the green leaves, and
they had said good-bye standing at the window. But soon