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"
That
is
why
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
especially
love
the
poets
.
I
think
verse
more
tender
than
prose
,
and
that
it
moves
far
more
easily
to
tears
.
"
"
Still
in
the
long
run
it
is
tiring
,
"
continued
Emma
.
Now
I
,
on
the
contrary
,
adore
stories
that
rush
breathlessly
along
,
that
frighten
one
.
I
detest
commonplace
heroes
and
moderate
sentiments
,
such
as
there
are
in
nature
.
"
"
In
fact
,
"
observed
the
clerk
,
"
these
works
,
not
touching
the
heart
,
miss
,
it
seems
to
me
,
the
true
end
of
art
.
It
is
so
sweet
,
amid
all
the
disenchantments
of
life
,
to
be
able
to
dwell
in
thought
upon
noble
characters
,
pure
affections
,
and
pictures
of
happiness
.
For
myself
,
living
here
far
from
the
world
,
this
is
my
one
distraction
;
but
Yonville
affords
so
few
resources
.
"
"
Like
Tostes
,
no
doubt
,
"
replied
Emma
;
"
and
so
I
always
subscribed
to
a
lending
library
.
"
"
If
madame
will
do
me
the
honour
of
making
use
of
it
"
,
said
the
chemist
,
who
had
just
caught
the
last
words
,
"
I
have
at
her
disposal
a
library
composed
of
the
best
authors
,
Voltaire
,
Rousseau
,
Delille
,
Walter
Scott
,
the
'
Echo
des
Feuilletons
'
;
and
in
addition
I
receive
various
periodicals
,
among
them
the
'
Fanal
de
Rouen
'
daily
,
having
the
advantage
to
be
its
correspondent
for
the
districts
of
Buchy
,
Forges
,
Neufchatel
,
Yonville
,
and
vicinity
.
"
For
two
hours
and
a
half
they
had
been
at
table
;
for
the
servant
Artemis
,
carelessly
dragging
her
old
list
slippers
over
the
flags
,
brought
one
plate
after
the
other
,
forgot
everything
,
and
constantly
left
the
door
of
the
billiard-room
half
open
,
so
that
it
beat
against
the
wall
with
its
hooks
.
Unconsciously
,
Leon
,
while
talking
,
had
placed
his
foot
on
one
of
the
bars
of
the
chair
on
which
Madame
Bovary
was
sitting
.
She
wore
a
small
blue
silk
necktie
,
that
kept
up
like
a
ruff
a
gauffered
cambric
collar
,
and
with
the
movements
of
her
head
the
lower
part
of
her
face
gently
sunk
into
the
linen
or
came
out
from
it
.
Thus
side
by
side
,
while
Charles
and
the
chemist
chatted
,
they
entered
into
one
of
those
vague
conversations
where
the
hazard
of
all
that
is
said
brings
you
back
to
the
fixed
centre
of
a
common
sympathy
.
The
Paris
theatres
,
titles
of
novels
,
new
quadrilles
,
and
the
world
they
did
not
know
;
Tostes
,
where
she
had
lived
,
and
Yonville
,
where
they
were
;
they
examined
all
,
talked
of
everything
till
to
the
end
of
dinner
.
When
coffee
was
served
Felicite
went
away
to
get
ready
the
room
in
the
new
house
,
and
the
guests
soon
raised
the
siege
.
Madame
Lefrancois
was
asleep
near
the
cinders
,
while
the
stable-boy
,
lantern
in
hand
,
was
waiting
to
show
Monsieur
and
Madame
Bovary
the
way
home
.
Bits
of
straw
stuck
in
his
red
hair
,
and
he
limped
with
his
left
leg
.
When
he
had
taken
in
his
other
hand
the
cure
's
umbrella
,
they
started
.
The
town
was
asleep
;
the
pillars
of
the
market
threw
great
shadows
;
the
earth
was
all
grey
as
on
a
summer
's
night
.
But
as
the
doctor
's
house
was
only
some
fifty
paces
from
the
inn
,
they
had
to
say
good-night
almost
immediately
,
and
the
company
dispersed
.
As
soon
as
she
entered
the
passage
,
Emma
felt
the
cold
of
the
plaster
fall
about
her
shoulders
like
damp
linen
.
The
walls
were
new
and
the
wooden
stairs
creaked
.
In
their
bedroom
,
on
the
first
floor
,
a
whitish
light
passed
through
the
curtainless
windows
.
