Page 433 - madame-bovary

was inordinately bored, and yet none would be the first to
go.
Homais, when he returned at nine o’clock (for the last
two days only Homais seemed to have been on the Place),
was laden with a stock of camphor, of benzine, and aromat-
ic herbs. He also carried a large jar full of chlorine water,
to keep off all miasmata. Just then the servant, Madame
Lefrancois, and Madame Bovary senior were busy about
Emma, finishing dressing her, and they were drawing down
the long stiff veil that covered her to her satin shoes.
Felicite was sobbing—‘Ah! my poor mistress! my poor
mistress!’
‘Look at her,’ said the landlady, sighing; ‘how pretty she
still is! Now, couldn’t you swear she was going to get up in
a minute?’
Then they bent over her to put on her wreath. They had
to raise the head a little, and a rush of black liquid issued, as
if she were vomiting, from her mouth.
‘Oh, goodness! The dress; take care!’ cried Madame Le-
francois. ‘Now, just come and help,’ she said to the chemist.
‘Perhaps you’re afraid?’
‘I afraid?’ replied he, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I dare say!
I’ve seen all sorts of things at the hospital when I was study-
ing pharmacy. We used to make punch in the dissecting
room! Nothingness does not terrify a philosopher; and, as I
often say, I even intend to leave my body to the hospitals, in
order, later on, to serve science.’
The cure on his arrival inquired how Monsieur Bovary
was, and, on the reply of the druggist, went on—‘The blow,

Madame Bovary