Madame Bovary examined them. "I do not require anything," she said.

Then Monsieur Lheureux delicately exhibited three Algerian scarves,

several packets of English needles, a pair of straw slippers, and

finally, four eggcups in cocoanut wood, carved in open work by convicts.

Then, with both hands on the table, his neck stretched out, his figure

bent forward, open-mouthed, he watched Emma's look, who was walking up

and down undecided amid these goods. From time to time, as if to remove

some dust, he filliped with his nail the silk of the scarves spread

out at full length, and they rustled with a little noise, making in the

green twilight the gold spangles of their tissue scintillate like little

stars.

"How much are they?"

"A mere nothing," he replied, "a mere nothing. But there's no hurry;

whenever it's convenient. We are not Jews."

She reflected for a few moments, and ended by again declining Monsieur

Lheureux's offer. He replied quite unconcernedly-"Very well. We shall understand one another by and by. I have always got

on with ladies--if I didn't with my own!"

Emma smiled.

"I wanted to tell you," he went on good-naturedly, after his joke, "that

it isn't the money I should trouble about. Why, I could give you some,

if need be."

She made a gesture of surprise.

"Ah!" said he quickly and in a low voice, "I shouldn't have to go far to

find you some, rely on that."

And he began asking after Pere Tellier, the proprietor of the "Cafe

Francais," whom Monsieur Bovary was then attending.

"What's the matter with Pere Tellier? He coughs so that he shakes his

whole house, and I'm afraid he'll soon want a deal covering rather than

a flannel vest. He was such a rake as a young man! Those sort of people,

madame, have not the least regularity; he's burnt up with brandy. Still

it's sad, all the same, to see an acquaintance go off."

And while he fastened up his box he discoursed about the doctor's

patients.

"It's the weather, no doubt," he said, looking frowningly at the floor,

"that causes these illnesses. I, too, don't feel the thing. One of these

days I shall even have to consult the doctor for a pain I have in my

back. Well, good-bye, Madame Bovary. At your service; your very humble

servant." And he closed the door gently.

Emma had her dinner served in her bedroom on a tray by the fireside; she

was a long time over it; everything was well with her.




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