OldRouaultonhiswaybackbeganquietlysmokingapipe，whichHomaisinhisinnermostconsciencethoughtnotquitethething。
　　HealsonoticedthatMonsieurBinethadnotbeenpresent，andthatTuvachehad“madeoff“aftermass，andthatTheodore，thenotary’sservantworeabluecoat，“asifonecouldnothavegotablackcoat，sincethatisthecustom，byJove!“Andtosharehisobservationswithothershewentfromgrouptogroup。TheyweredeploringEmma’sdeath，especiallyLheureux，whohadnotfailedtocometothefuneral。
　　“Poorlittlewoman!Whatatroubleforherhusband!“
　　Thedruggistcontinued，“Doyouknowthatbutformehewouldhavecommittedsomefatalattemptuponhimself？“
　　“Suchagoodwoman!TothinkthatIsawheronlylastSaturdayinmyshop。“
　　“Ihaven’thadleisure，“saidHomais，“toprepareafewwordsthatIwouldhavecastuponhertomb。“
　　Charlesongettinghomeundressed，andoldRouaultputonhisblueblouse。Itwasanewone，andashehadoftenduringthejourneywipedhiseyesonthesleeves，thedyehadstainedhisface，andthetracesoftearsmadelinesinthelayerofdustthatcoveredit。
　　MadameBovaryseniorwaswiththem。Allthreeweresilent。Atlasttheoldfellowsighed——
　　“Doyouremember，myfriend，thatIwenttoTostesoncewhenyouhadjustlostyourfirstdeceased？Iconsoledyouatthattime。I
　　thoughtofsomethingtosaythen，butnow——“Then，withaloudgroanthatshookhiswholechest，“Ah!thisistheendforme，doyousee!Isawmywifego，thenmyson，andnowto-dayit’smydaughter。“
　　HewantedtogobackatoncetoBertaux，sayingthathecouldnotsleepinthishouse。Heevenrefusedtoseehisgranddaughter。
　　“No，no!Itwouldgrievemetoomuch。Onlyyou’llkisshermanytimesforme。Good-bye!you’reagoodfellow!AndthenIshallneverforgetthat，“hesaid，slappinghisthigh。“Neverfear，youshallalwayshaveyourturkey。“
　　Butwhenhereachedthetopofthehillheturnedback，ashehadturnedoncebeforeontheroadofSaint-Victorwhenhehadpartedfromher。Thewindowsofthevillagewereallonfirebeneaththeslantingraysofthesunsinkingbehindthefield。Heputhishandoverhiseyes，andsawinthehorizonanenclosureofwalls，wheretreeshereandthereformedblackclustersbetweenwhitestones；thenhewentonhiswayatagentletrot，forhisnaghadgonelame。
　　Despitetheirfatigue，Charlesandhismotherstayedverylongthateveningtalkingtogether。Theyspokeofthedaysofthepastandofthefuture。ShewouldcometoliveatYonville；shewouldkeephouseforhim；theywouldneverpartagain。Shewasingeniousandcaressing，rejoicinginherheartatgainingoncemoreanaffectionthathadwanderedfromherforsomanyyears。
　　Midnightstruck。Thevillageasusualwassilent，andCharles，awake，thoughtalwaysofher。
　　Rodolphe，who，todistracthimself，hadbeenramblingaboutthewoodallday，wassleepingquietlyinhischateau，andLeon，downyonder，alwaysslept。
　　Therewasanotherwhoatthathourwasnotasleep。
　　Onthegravebetweenthepine-treesachildwasonhiskneesweeping，andhisheart，rentbysobs，wasbeatingintheshadowbeneaththeloadofanimmenseregret，sweeterthanthemoonandfathomlessasthenight。Thegatesuddenlygrated。ItwasLestiboudois；hecametofetchhisspade，thathehadforgotten。
　　HerecognisedJustinclimbingoverthewall，andatlastknewwhowastheculpritwhostolehispotatoes。
　　ChapterElevenThenextdayCharleshadthechildbroughtback。Sheaskedforhermamma。Theytoldhershewasaway；thatshewouldbringherbacksomeplaythings。Berthespokeofheragainseveraltimes，thenatlastthoughtnomoreofher。Thechild’sgaietybrokeBovary’sheart，andhehadtobearbesidestheintolerableconsolationsofthechemist。
　　Moneytroublessoonbeganagain，MonsieurLheureuxurgingonanewhisfriendVincart，andCharlespledgedhimselfforexorbitantsums；forhewouldneverconsenttoletthesmallestofthethingsthathadbelongedtoHERbesold。Hismotherwasexasperatedwithhim；hegrewevenmoreangrythanshedid。Hehadaltogetherchanged。Sheleftthehouse。
　　Theneveryonebegan“takingadvantage“ofhim。MademoiselleLempereurpresentedabillforsixmonths’teaching，althoughEmmahadnevertakenalessondespitethereceiptedbillshehadshownBovary；itwasanarrangementbetweenthetwowomen。Themanatthecirculatinglibrarydemandedthreeyears’
　　subscriptions；MereRolletclaimedthepostagedueforsometwentyletters，andwhenCharlesaskedforanexplanation，shehadthedelicacytoreply——
　　“Oh，Idon’tknow。Itwasforherbusinessaffairs。“
　　WitheverydebthepaidCharlesthoughthehadcometotheendofthem。Butothersfollowedceaselessly。Hesentinaccountsforprofessionalattendance。Hewasshownthelettershiswifehadwritten。Thenhehadtoapologise。
　　FelicitenowworeMadameBovary’sgowns；notall，forhehadkeptsomeofthem，andhewenttolookattheminherdressing-room，lockinghimselfupthere；shewasaboutherheight，andoftenCharles，seeingherfrombehind，wasseizedwithanillusion，andcriedout——
　　“Oh，stay，stay!“
　　ButatWhitsuntidesheranawayfromYonville，carriedoffbyTheodore，stealingallthatwasleftofthewardrobe。
　　ItwasaboutthistimethatthewidowDupuishadthehonourtoinformhimofthe“marriageofMonsieurLeonDupuisherson，notaryatYvetot，toMademoiselleLeocadieLeboeufofBondeville。“Charles，amongtheothercongratulationshesenthim，wrotethissentence——
　　“Howgladmypoorwifewouldhavebeen!“
　　Onedaywhen，wanderingaimlesslyaboutthehouse，hehadgoneuptotheattic，hefeltapelletoffinepaperunderhisslipper。
　　Heopeneditandread：“Courage，Emma，courage。Iwouldnotbringmiseryintoyourlife。“ItwasRodolphe’sletter，fallentothegroundbetweentheboxes，whereithadremained，andthatthewindfromthedormerwindowhadjustblowntowardsthedoor。AndCharlesstood，motionlessandstaring，intheverysameplacewhere，longago，Emma，indespair，andpalereventhanhe，hadthoughtofdying。AtlasthediscoveredasmallRatthebottomofthesecondpage。Whatdidthismean？HerememberedRodolphe’sattentions，hissudden，disappearance，hisconstrainedairwhentheyhadmettwoorthreetimessince。Buttherespectfultoneoftheletterdeceivedhim。
　　“Perhapstheylovedoneanotherplatonically，“hesaidtohimself。
　　Besides，Charleswasnotofthosewhogotothebottomofthings；
　　heshrankfromtheproofs，andhisvaguejealousywaslostintheimmensityofhiswoe。
　　Everyone，hethought，musthaveadoredher；allmenassuredlymusthavecovetedher。Sheseemedbutthemorebeautifultohimforthis；hewasseizedwithalasting，furiousdesireforher，thatinflamedhisdespair，andthatwasboundless，becauseitwasnowunrealisable。
　　Topleaseher，asifshewerestillliving，headoptedherpredilections，herideas；heboughtpatentleatherbootsandtooktowearingwhitecravats。Heputcosmeticsonhismoustache，and，likeher，signednotesofhand。Shecorruptedhimfrombeyondthegrave。
　　Hewasobligedtosellhissilverpiecebypiece；nexthesoldthedrawing-roomfurniture。Alltheroomswerestripped；butthebedroom，herownroom，remainedasbefore。AfterhisdinnerCharleswentupthere。Hepushedtheroundtableinfrontofthefire，anddrewupherarmchair。Hesatdownoppositeit。Acandleburntinoneofthegiltcandlesticks。Berthebyhissidewaspaintingprints。
　　Hesuffered，poorman，atseeinghersobadlydressed，withlacelessboots，andthearm-holesofherpinaforetorndowntothehips；forthecharwomantooknocareofher。Butshewassosweet，sopretty，andherlittleheadbentforwardsogracefully，lettingthedearfairhairfalloverherrosycheeks，thataninfinitejoycameuponhim，ahappinessmingledwithbitterness，likethoseill-madewinesthattasteofresin。Hemendedhertoys，madeherpuppetsfromcardboard，orseweduphalf-torndolls。Then，ifhiseyesfellupontheworkbox，aribbonlyingabout，orevenapinleftinacrackofthetable，hebegantodream，andlookedsosadthatshebecameassadashe。
　　Noonenowcametoseethem，forJustinhadrunawaytoRouen，wherehewasagrocer’sassistant，andthedruggist’schildrensawlessandlessofthechild，MonsieurHomaisnotcaring，seeingthedifferenceoftheirsocialposition，tocontinuetheintimacy。
　　Theblindman，whomhehadnotbeenabletocurewiththepomade，hadgonebacktothehillofBois-Guillaume，wherehetoldthetravellersofthevainattemptofthedruggist，tosuchanextent，thatHomaiswhenhewenttotownhidhimselfbehindthecurtainsofthe“Hirondelle“toavoidmeetinghim。Hedetestedhim，andwishing，intheinterestsofhisownreputation，togetridofhimatallcosts，hedirectedagainsthimasecretbattery，thatbetrayedthedepthofhisintellectandthebasenessofhisvanity。Thus，forsixconsecutivemonths，onecouldreadinthe“FanaldeRouen“editorialssuchasthese——
　　“AllwhobendtheirstepstowardsthefertileplainsofPicardyhave，nodoubt，remarked，bytheBois-Guillaumehill，awretchsufferingfromahorriblefacialwound。Heimportunes，persecutesone，andleviesaregulartaxonalltravellers。ArewestilllivinginthemonstroustimesoftheMiddleAges，whenvagabondswerepermittedtodisplayinourpublicplacesleprosyandscrofulastheyhadbroughtbackfromtheCrusades？“
　　Or——
　　“Inspiteofthelawsagainstvagabondage，theapproachestoourgreattownscontinuetobeinfectedbybandsofbeggars。Someareseengoingaboutalone，andthesearenot，perhaps，theleastdangerous。Whatareouredilesabout？“
　　ThenHomaisinventedanecdotes