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but could hit upon nothing。 But the most famous surgeons also
made mistakes； and that is what no one would ever believe！
People； on the contrary； would laugh； jeer！ It would spread as
far as Forges； as Neufchatel； as Rouen； everywhere！ Who could say
if his colleagues would not write against him。 Polemics would
ensue； he would have to answer in the papers。 Hippolyte might
even prosecute him。 He saw himself dishonoured； ruined； lost； and
his imagination； assailed by a world of hypotheses； tossed
amongst them like an empty cask borne by the sea and floating
upon the waves。
Emma； opposite； watched him； she did not share his humiliation；
she felt anotherthat of having supposed such a man was worth
anything。 As if twenty times already she had not sufficiently
perceived his mediocrity。
Charles was walking up and down the room； his boots creaked on
the floor。
〃Sit down；〃 she said； 〃you fidget me。〃
He sat down again。
How was it that sheshe； who was so intelligentcould have
allowed herself to be deceived again？ and through what deplorable
madness had she thus ruined her life by continual sacrifices？ She
recalled all her instincts of luxury； all the privations of her
soul； the sordidness of marriage； of the household； her dream
sinking into the mire like wounded swallows； all that she had
longed for； all that she had denied herself； all that she might
have had！ And for what？ for what？
In the midst of the silence that hung over the village a
heart…rending cry rose on the air。 Bovary turned white to
fainting。 She knit her brows with a nervous gesture； then went
on。 And it was for him； for this creature； for this man； who
understood nothing； who felt nothing！ For he was there quite
quiet； not even suspecting that the ridicule of his name would
henceforth sully hers as well as his。 She had made efforts to
love him； and she had repented with tears for having yielded to
another！
〃But it was perhaps a valgus！〃 suddenly exclaimed Bovary； who was
meditating。
At the unexpected shock of this phrase falling on her thought
like a leaden bullet on a silver plate； Emma； shuddering； raised
her head in order to find out what he meant to say； and they
looked at the other in silence； almost amazed to see each other；
so far sundered were they by their inner thoughts。 Charles gazed
at her with the dull look of a drunken man； while he listened
motionless to the last cries of the sufferer； that followed each
other in long…drawn modulations； broken by sharp spasms like the
far…off howling of some beast being slaughtered。 Emma bit her wan
lips； and rolling between her fingers a piece of coral that she
had broken； fixed on Charles the burning glance of her eyes like
two arrows of fire about to dart forth。 Everything in him
irritated her now； his face； his dress； what he did not say； his
whole person； his existence； in fine。 She repented of her past
virtue as of a crime； and what still remained of it rumbled away
beneath the furious blows of her pride。 She revelled in all the
evil ironies of triumphant adultery。 The memory of her lover came
back to her with dazzling attractions； she threw her whole soul
into it； borne away towards this image with a fresh enthusiasm；
and Charles seemed to her as much removed from her life； as
absent forever； as impossible and annihilated； as if he had been
about to die and were passing under her eyes。
There was a sound of steps on the pavement。 Charles looked up；
and through the lowered blinds he saw at the corner of the market
in the broad sunshine Dr。 Canivet； who was wiping his brow with
his handkerchief。 Homais； behind him； was carrying a large red
box in his hand； and both were going towards the chemist's。
Then with a feeling of sudden tenderness and discouragement
Charles turned to his wife saying to her
〃Oh； kiss me； my own！〃
〃Leave me！〃 she said； red with anger。
〃What is the matter？〃 he asked； stupefied。 〃Be calm； compose
yourself。 You know well enough that I love you。 Come！〃
〃Enough！〃 she cried with a terrible look。
And escaping from the room； Emma closed the door so violently
that the barometer fell from the wall and smashed on the floor。
Charles sank back into his arm…chair overwhelmed； trying to
discover what could be wrong with her； fancying some nervous
illness； weeping； and vaguely feeling something fatal and
incomprehensible whirling round him。
When Rodolphe came to the garden that evening； he found his
mistress waiting for him at the foot of the steps on the lowest
stair。 They threw their arms round one another； and all their
rancour melted like snow beneath the warmth of that kiss。
Chapter Twelve
They began to love one another again。 Often； even in the middle
of the day； Emma suddenly wrote to him； then from the window made
a sign to Justin； who； taking his apron off； quickly ran to La
Huchette。 Rodolphe would come； she had sent for him to tell him
that she was bored； that her husband was odious； her life
frightful。
〃But what can I do？〃 he cried one day impatiently。
〃Ah！ if you would〃
She was sitting on the floor between his knees； her hair loose；
her look lost。
〃Why； what？〃 said Rodolphe。
She sighed。
〃We would go and live elsewheresomewhere！〃
〃You are really mad！〃 he said laughing。 〃How could that be
possible？〃
She returned to the subject； he pretended not to understand； and
turned the conversation。
What he did not understand was all this worry about so simple an
affair as love。 She had a motive； a reason； and； as it were； a
pendant to her affection。
Her tenderness； in fact； grew each day with her repulsion to her
husband。 The more she gave up herself to the one； the more she
loathed the other。 Never had Charles seemed to her so
disagreeable； to have such stodgy fingers； such vulgar ways； to
be so dull as when they found themselves together after her
meeting with Rodolphe。 Then； while playing the spouse and virtue；
she was burning at the thought of that head whose black hair fell
in a curl over the sunburnt brow； of that form at once so strong
and elegant； of that man； in a word； who had such experience in
his reasoning； such passion in his desires。 It was for him that
she filed her nails with the care of a chaser； and that there was
never enough cold…cream for her skin； nor of patchouli for her
handkerchiefs。 She loaded herself with bracelets； rings； and
necklaces。 When he was coming she filled the two large blue glass
vases with roses； and prepared her room and her person like a
courtesan expecting a prince。 The servant had to be constantly
washing linen； and all day Felicite did not stir from the
kitchen； where little Justin； who often kept her company； watched
her at work。
With his elbows on the long board on which she was ironing； he
greedily watched all these women's clothes spread about him； the
dimity petticoats； the fichus； the collars； and the drawers with
running strings； wide at the hips and growing narrower below。
〃What is that for？〃 asked the young fellow； passing his hand over
the crinoline or the hooks and eyes。
〃Why； haven't you ever seen anything？〃 Felicite answered
laughing。 〃As if your mistress； Madame Homais； didn't wear the
same。〃
〃Oh； I daresay！ Madame Homais！〃 And he added with a meditative
air； 〃As if she were a lady like madame！〃
But Felicite grew impatient of seeing him hanging round her。 She
was six years older than he； and Theodore； Monsieur Guillaumin's
servant； was beginning to pay court to her。
〃Let me alone；〃 she said； moving her pot of starch。 〃You'd better
be off and pound almonds； you are always dangling about women。
Before you meddle with such things； bad boy； wait till you've got
a beard to your chin。〃
〃Oh； don't be cross！ I'll go and clean her boots。〃
And he at once took down from the shelf Emma's boots； all coated
with mud； the mud of the rendezvous； that crumbled into powder
beneath his fingers； and that he watched as it gently rose in a
ray of sunlight。
〃How afraid you are of spoiling them！〃 said the servant； who
wasn't so particular when she cleaned them herself； because as
soon as the stuff of the boots was no longer fresh madame handed
them over to her。
Emma had a number in her cupboard that she squandered one after
the other； w