He recalled stories of catalepsy, the marvels of magnetism, and he

said to himself that by willing it with all his force he might perhaps

succeed in reviving her. Once he even bent towards he, and cried in a

low voice, "Emma! Emma!" His strong breathing made the flames of the

candles tremble against the wall.

At daybreak Madame Bovary senior arrived. Charles as he embraced her

burst into another flood of tears. She tried, as the chemist had done,

to make some remarks to him on the expenses of the funeral. He became so

angry that she was silent, and he even commissioned her to go to town at

once and buy what was necessary.

Charles remained alone the whole afternoon; they had taken Berthe

to Madame Homais'; Felicite was in the room upstairs with Madame

Lefrancois.

In the evening he had some visitors. He rose, pressed their hands,

unable to speak. Then they sat down near one another, and formed a large

semicircle in front of the fire. With lowered faces, and swinging one

leg crossed over the other knee, they uttered deep sighs at intervals;

each one 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 aromatic 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 Lefrancois. "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 studying 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."




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