The landlady never took her eyes off the "Cafe Francois" and the chemist

went on-"Would to God our agriculturists were chemists, or that at least they

would pay more attention to the counsels of science. Thus lately I

myself wrote a considerable tract, a memoir of over seventy-two pages,

entitled, 'Cider, its Manufacture and its Effects, together with some

New Reflections on the Subject,' that I sent to the Agricultural Society

of Rouen, and which even procured me the honour of being received among

its members--Section, Agriculture; Class, Pomological. Well, if my

work had been given to the public--" But the druggist stopped, Madame

Lefrancois seemed so preoccupied.

"Just look at them!" she said. "It's past comprehension! Such a cookshop

as that!" And with a shrug of the shoulders that stretched out over her

breast the stitches of her knitted bodice, she pointed with both hands

at her rival's inn, whence songs were heard issuing. "Well, it won't

last long," she added. "It'll be over before a week."

Homais drew back with stupefaction. She came down three steps and

whispered in his ear-"What! you didn't know it? There is to be an execution in next week.

It's Lheureux who is selling him out; he has killed him with bills."

"What a terrible catastrophe!" cried the druggist, who always found

expressions in harmony with all imaginable circumstances.

Then the landlady began telling him the story that she had heard from

Theodore, Monsieur Guillaumin's servant, and although she detested

Tellier, she blamed Lheureux. He was "a wheedler, a sneak."

"There!" she said. "Look at him! he is in the market; he is bowing to

Madame Bovary, who's got on a green bonnet. Why, she's taking Monsieur

Boulanger's arm."

"Madame Bovary!" exclaimed Homais. "I must go at once and pay her my

respects. Perhaps she'll be very glad to have a seat in the enclosure

under the peristyle." And, without heeding Madame Lefrancois, who was

calling him back to tell him more about it, the druggist walked off

rapidly with a smile on his lips, with straight knees, bowing copiously

to right and left, and taking up much room with the large tails of his

frock-coat that fluttered behind him in the wind.

Rodolphe, having caught sight of him from afar, hurried on, but Madame

Bovary lost her breath; so he walked more slowly, and, smiling at her,

said in a rough tone-"It's only to get away from that fat fellow, you know, the druggist."

She pressed his elbow.




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