“Itisverystrange，“thoughtEmma，“howuglythischildis!“
　　Whenateleveno’clockCharlescamebackfromthechemist’sshop，whitherhehadgoneafterdinnertoreturntheremainderofthesticking-plaster，hefoundhiswifestandingbythecradle。
　　“Iassureyouit’snothing。“hesaid，kissingherontheforehead。“Don’tworry，mypoordarling；youwillmakeyourselfill。“
　　Hehadstayedalongtimeatthechemist’s。Althoughhehadnotseemedmuchmoved，Homais，nevertheless，hadexertedhimselftobuoyhimup，to“keepuphisspirits。“Thentheyhadtalkedofthevariousdangersthatthreatenchildhood，ofthecarelessnessofservants。MadameHomaisknewsomethingofit，havingstilluponherchestthemarksleftbyabasinfullofsoupthatacookhadformerlydroppedonherpinafore，andhergoodparentstooknoendoftroubleforher。Thekniveswerenotsharpened，northefloorswaxed；therewereirongratingstothewindowsandstrongbarsacrossthefireplace；thelittleHomais，inspiteoftheirspirit，couldnotstirwithoutsomeonewatchingthem；attheslightestcoldtheirfatherstuffedthemwithpectorals；anduntiltheywereturnedfourtheyall，withoutpity，hadtowearwaddedhead-protectors。This，itistrue，wasafancyofMadameHomais’；herhusbandwasinwardlyafflictedatit。Fearingthepossibleconsequencesofsuchcompressiontotheintellectualorgans。Heevenwentsofarastosaytoher，“DoyouwanttomakeCaribsorBotocudosofthem？“
　　Charles，however，hadseveraltimestriedtointerrupttheconversation。“Ishouldliketospeaktoyou，“hehadwhisperedintheclerk’sear，whowentupstairsinfrontofhim。
　　“Canhesuspectanything？“Leonaskedhimself。Hisheartbeat，andherackedhisbrainwithsurmises。
　　Atlast，Charles，havingshutthedoor，askedhimtoseehimselfwhatwouldbethepriceatRouenofafinedaguerreotypes。Itwasasentimentalsurpriseheintendedforhiswife，adelicateattention——hisportraitinafrock-coat。Buthewantedfirsttoknow“howmuchitwouldbe。“TheinquirieswouldnotputMonsieurLeonout，sincehewenttotownalmosteveryweek。
　　Why？MonsieurHomaissuspectedsome“youngman’saffair“atthebottomofit，anintrigue。Buthewasmistaken。Leonwasafternolove-making。Hewassadderthanever，asMadameLefrancoissawfromtheamountoffoodheleftonhisplate。Tofindoutmoreaboutitshequestionedthetax-collector。Binetansweredroughlythathe“wasn’tpaidbythepolice。“
　　Allthesame，hiscompanionseemedverystrangetohim，forLeonoftenthrewhimselfbackinhischair，andstretchingouthisarms。Complainedvaguelyoflife。
　　“It’sbecauseyoudon’ttakeenoughrecreation，“saidthecollector。
　　“Whatrecreation？“
　　“IfIwereyouI’dhavealathe。“
　　“ButIdon’tknowhowtoturn，“answeredtheclerk。
　　“Ah!that’strue，“saidtheother，rubbinghischinwithanairofmingledcontemptandsatisfaction。
　　Leonwaswearyoflovingwithoutanyresult；moreoverhewasbeginningtofeelthatdepressioncausedbytherepetitionofthesamekindoflife，whennointerestinspiresandnohopesustainsit。HewassoboredwithYonvilleanditsinhabitants，thatthesightofcertainpersons，ofcertainhouses，irritatedhimbeyondendurance；andthechemist，goodfellowthoughhewas，wasbecomingabsolutelyunbearabletohim。Yettheprospectofanewconditionoflifefrightenedasmuchasitseducedhim。
　　Thisapprehensionsoonchangedintoimpatience，andthenParisfromafarsoundeditsfanfareofmaskedballswiththelaughofgrisettes。Ashewastofinishreadingthere，whynotsetoutatonce？Whatpreventedhim？Andhebeganmakinghome-preparations；
　　hearrangedhisoccupationsbeforehand。Hefurnishedinhisheadanapartment。Hewouldleadanartist’slifethere!Hewouldtakelessonsontheguitar!Hewouldhaveadressing-gown，aBasquecap，bluevelvetslippers!Heevenalreadywasadmiringtwocrossedfoilsoverhischimney-piece，withadeath’sheadontheguitarabovethem。
　　Thedifficultywastheconsentofhismother；nothing，however，seemedmorereasonable。Evenhisemployeradvisedhimtogotosomeotherchamberswherehecouldadvancemorerapidly。Takingamiddlecourse，then，LeonlookedforsomeplaceassecondclerkatRouen；foundnone，andatlastwrotehismotheralongletterfullofdetails，inwhichhesetforththereasonsforgoingtoliveatParisimmediately。Sheconsented。
　　Hedidnothurry。EverydayforamonthHivertcarriedboxes，valises，parcelsforhimfromYonvilletoRouenandfromRouentoYonville；andwhenLeonhadpackeduphiswardrobe，hadhisthreearm-chairsrestuffed，boughtastockofneckties，inaword，hadmademorepreparationsthanforavoyagearoundtheworld，heputitofffromweektoweek，untilhereceivedasecondletterfromhismotherurginghimtoleave，sincehewantedtopasshisexaminationbeforethevacation。
　　Whenthemomentforthefarewellshadcome，MadameHomaiswept，Justinsobbed；Homais，asamanofnerve，concealedhisemotion；
　　hewishedtocarryhisfriend’sovercoathimselfasfarasthegateofthenotary，whowastakingLeontoRoueninhiscarriage。
　　ThelatterhadjusttimetobidfarewelltoMonsieurBovary。
　　Whenhereachedtheheadofthestairs，hestopped，hewassooutofbreath。Ashecamein，MadameBovaryarosehurriedly。
　　“ItisIagain!“saidLeon。
　　“Iwassureofit!“
　　Shebitherlips，andarushofbloodflowingunderherskinmadeherredfromtherootsofherhairtothetopofhercollar。Sheremainedstanding，leaningwithhershoulderagainstthewainscot。
　　“Thedoctorisnothere？“hewenton。
　　“Heisout。“Sherepeated，“Heisout。“
　　Thentherewassilence。Theylookedatoneanotherandtheirthoughts，confoundedinthesameagony，clungclosetogetherliketwothrobbingbreasts。
　　“IshouldliketokissBerthe，“saidLeon。
　　EmmawentdownafewstepsandcalledFelicite。
　　Hethrewonelonglookaroundhimthattookinthewalls，thedecorations，thefireplace，asiftopenetrateeverything，carryawayeverything。Butshereturned，andtheservantbroughtBerthe，whowasswingingawindmillroofdownwardsattheendofastring。Leonkissedherseveraltimesontheneck。
　　“Good-bye，poorchild!good-bye，dearlittleone!good-bye!“Andhegaveherbacktohermother。
　　“Takeheraway，“shesaid。
　　Theyremainedalone——MadameBovary，herbackturned，herfacepressedagainstawindow-pane；Leonheldhiscapinhishand，knockingitsoftlyagainsthisthigh。
　　“Itisgoingtorain，“saidEmma。
　　“Ihaveacloak，“heanswered。
　　“Ah!“
　　Sheturnedaround，herchinlowered，herforeheadbentforward。
　　Thelightfellonitasonapieceofmarble，tothecurveoftheeyebrows，withoutone’sbeingabletoguesswhatEmmawasseeingonthehorizonorwhatshewasthinkingwithinherself。
　　“Well，good-bye，“hesighed。
　　Sheraisedherheadwithaquickmovement。
　　“Yes，good-bye——go!“
　　Theyadvancedtowardseachother；heheldouthishand；shehesitated。
　　“IntheEnglishfashion，then，“shesaid，givingherownhandwhollytohim，andforcingalaugh。
　　Leonfeltitbetweenhisfingers，andtheveryessenceofallhisbeingseemedtopassdownintothatmoistpalm。Thenheopenedhishand；theireyesmetagain，andhedisappeared。
　　Whenhereachedthemarket-place，hestoppedandhidbehindapillartolookforthelasttimeatthiswhitehousewiththefourgreenblinds。Hethoughthesawashadowbehindthewindowintheroom；butthecurtain，slidingalongthepoleasthoughnooneweretouchingit，slowlyopeneditslongobliquefoldsthatspreadoutwithasinglemovement，andthushungstraightandmotionlessasaplasterwall。Leonsetoffrunning。
　　>Fromafarhesawhisemployer’sgigintheroad，andbyitamaninacoarseapronholdingthehorse。HomaisandMonsieurGuillauminweretalking。Theywerewaitingforhim。
　　“Embraceme，“saidthedruggistwithtearsinhiseyes。“Hereisyourcoat，mygoodfriend。Mindthecold；takecareofyourself；
　　lookafteryourself。“
　　“Come，Leon，jumpin，“saidthenotary。
　　Homaisbendoverthesplash-board，andinavoicebrokenbysobsutteredthesethreesadwords——
　　“Apleasantjourney!“
　　“Good-night，“saidMonsieurGuillaumin。“Givehimhishead。“Theysetout，andHomaiswentback。