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- Гюстав Флобер
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- Госпожа Бовари
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- Стр. 40/303
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"
Are
you
waiting
for
him
for
your
gentlemen
's
dinner
?
"
"
Wait
for
him
!
And
what
about
Monsieur
Binet
?
As
the
clock
strikes
six
you
'll
see
him
come
in
,
for
he
has
n't
his
equal
under
the
sun
for
punctuality
.
He
must
always
have
his
seat
in
the
small
parlour
.
He
'd
rather
die
than
dine
anywhere
else
.
And
so
squeamish
as
he
is
,
and
so
particular
about
the
cider
!
Not
like
Monsieur
Leon
;
he
sometimes
comes
at
seven
,
or
even
half-past
,
and
he
does
n't
so
much
as
look
at
what
he
eats
.
Such
a
nice
young
man
!
Never
speaks
a
rough
word
!
"
"
Well
,
you
see
,
there
's
a
great
difference
between
an
educated
man
and
an
old
carabineer
who
is
now
a
tax-collector
.
"
Six
o'clock
struck
.
Binet
came
in
.
He
wore
a
blue
frock-coat
falling
in
a
straight
line
round
his
thin
body
,
and
his
leather
cap
,
with
its
lappets
knotted
over
the
top
of
his
head
with
string
,
showed
under
the
turned-up
peak
a
bald
forehead
,
flattened
by
the
constant
wearing
of
a
helmet
.
He
wore
a
black
cloth
waistcoat
,
a
hair
collar
,
grey
trousers
,
and
,
all
the
year
round
,
well-blacked
boots
,
that
had
two
parallel
swellings
due
to
the
sticking
out
of
his
big-toes
.
Not
a
hair
stood
out
from
the
regular
line
of
fair
whiskers
,
which
,
encircling
his
jaws
,
framed
,
after
the
fashion
of
a
garden
border
,
his
long
,
wan
face
,
whose
eyes
were
small
and
the
nose
hooked
.
Clever
at
all
games
of
cards
,
a
good
hunter
,
and
writing
a
fine
hand
,
he
had
at
home
a
lathe
,
and
amused
himself
by
turning
napkin
rings
,
with
which
he
filled
up
his
house
,
with
the
jealousy
of
an
artist
and
the
egotism
of
a
bourgeois
.
He
went
to
the
small
parlour
,
but
the
three
millers
had
to
be
got
out
first
,
and
during
the
whole
time
necessary
for
laying
the
cloth
,
Binet
remained
silent
in
his
place
near
the
stove
.
Then
he
shut
the
door
and
took
off
his
cap
in
his
usual
way
.
"
It
is
n't
with
saying
civil
things
that
he
'll
wear
out
his
tongue
,
"
said
the
chemist
,
as
soon
as
he
was
along
with
the
landlady
.
"
He
never
talks
more
,
"
she
replied
.
"
Last
week
two
travelers
in
the
cloth
line
were
here
--
such
clever
chaps
who
told
such
jokes
in
the
evening
,
that
I
fairly
cried
with
laughing
;
and
he
stood
there
like
a
dab
fish
and
never
said
a
word
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
observed
the
chemist
;
"
no
imagination
,
no
sallies
,
nothing
that
makes
the
society-man
.
"
