Page 366 - madame-bovary

Pommard wine all the same rather excited his faculties;
and when the omelette au rhum* appeared, he began pro-
pounding immoral theories about women. What seduced
him above all else was chic. He admired an elegant toilette
in a well-furnished apartment, and as to bodily qualities, he
didn’t dislike a young girl.
* In rum.
Leon watched the clock in despair. The druggist went on
drinking, eating, and talking.
‘You must be very lonely,’ he said suddenly, ‘here at Rouen.
To be sure your lady-love doesn’t live far away.’
And the other blushed—
‘Come now, be frank. Can you deny that at Yonville—‘
The young man stammered something.
‘At Madame Bovary’s, you’re not making love to—‘
‘To whom?’
‘The servant!’
He was not joking; but vanity getting the better of all
prudence, Leon, in spite of himself protested. Besides, he
only liked dark women.
‘I approve of that,’ said the chemist; ‘they have more pas-
sion.’
And whispering into his friend’s ear, he pointed out the
symptoms by which one could find out if a woman had pas-
sion. He even launched into an ethnographic digression:
the German was vapourish, the French woman licentious,
the Italian passionate.
‘And negresses?’ asked the clerk.
‘They are an artistic taste!’ said Homais. ‘Waiter! two