When the first cold days set in Emma left her bedroom for the

sitting-room, a long apartment with a low ceiling, in which there was

on the mantelpiece a large bunch of coral spread out against the

looking-glass. Seated in her arm chair near the window, she could see

the villagers pass along the pavement.

Twice a day Leon went from his office to the Lion d'Or. Emma could hear

him coming from afar; she leant forward listening, and the young man

glided past the curtain, always dressed in the same way, and without

turning his head. But in the twilight, when, her chin resting on her

left hand, she let the embroidery she had begun fall on her knees, she

often shuddered at the apparition of this shadow suddenly gliding past.

She would get up and order the table to be laid.

Monsieur Homais called at dinner-time. Skull-cap in hand, he came in on

tiptoe, in order to disturb no one, always repeating the same phrase,

"Good evening, everybody." Then, when he had taken his seat at the table

between the pair, he asked the doctor about his patients, and the latter

consulted his as to the probability of their payment. Next they talked

of "what was in the paper."

Homais by this hour knew it almost by heart, and he repeated it from end

to end, with the reflections of the penny-a-liners, and all the stories

of individual catastrophes that had occurred in France or abroad. But

the subject becoming exhausted, he was not slow in throwing out some

remarks on the dishes before him.

Sometimes even, half-rising, he delicately pointed out to madame the

tenderest morsel, or turning to the servant, gave her some advice on the

manipulation of stews and the hygiene of seasoning.

He talked aroma, osmazome, juices, and gelatine in a bewildering manner.

Moreover, Homais, with his head fuller of recipes than his shop of jars,

excelled in making all kinds of preserves, vinegars, and sweet liqueurs;

he knew also all the latest inventions in economic stoves, together with

the art of preserving cheese and of curing sick wines.

At eight o'clock Justin came to fetch him to shut up the shop.

Then Monsieur Homais gave him a sly look, especially if Felicite was

there, for he half noticed that his apprentice was fond of the doctor's

house.

"The young dog," he said, "is beginning to have ideas, and the devil

take me if I don't believe he's in love with your servant!"

But a more serious fault with which he reproached Justin was his

constantly listening to conversation. On Sunday, for example, one could

not get him out of the drawing-room, whither Madame Homais had called

him to fetch the children, who were falling asleep in the arm-chairs,

and dragging down with their backs calico chair-covers that were too

large.




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