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Her tenderness； in fact； grew each day with her repulsion to her
husband。 The more she gave up herself to the one； the more she
loathed the other。 Never had Charles seemed to her so
disagreeable； to have such stodgy fingers； such vulgar ways； to
be so dull as when they found themselves together after her
meeting with Rodolphe。 Then； while playing the spouse and virtue；
she was burning at the thought of that head whose black hair fell
in a curl over the sunburnt brow； of that form at once so strong
and elegant； of that man； in a word； who had such experience in
his reasoning； such passion in his desires。 It was for him that
she filed her nails with the care of a chaser； and that there was
never enough cold…cream for her skin； nor of patchouli for her
handkerchiefs。 She loaded herself with bracelets； rings； and
necklaces。 When he was coming she filled the two large blue glass
vases with roses； and prepared her room and her person like a
courtesan expecting a prince。 The servant had to be constantly
washing linen； and all day Felicite did not stir from the
kitchen； where little Justin； who often kept her company； watched
her at work。
With his elbows on the long board on which she was ironing； he
greedily watched all these women's clothes spread about him； the
dimity petticoats； the fichus； the collars； and the drawers with
running strings； wide at the hips and growing narrower below。
〃What is that for？〃 asked the young fellow； passing his hand over
the crinoline or the hooks and eyes。
〃Why； haven't you ever seen anything？〃 Felicite answered
laughing。 〃As if your mistress； Madame Homais； didn't wear the
same。〃
〃Oh； I daresay！ Madame Homais！〃 And he added with a meditative
air； 〃As if she were a lady like madame！〃
But Felicite grew impatient of seeing him hanging round her。 She
was six years older than he； and Theodore； Monsieur Guillaumin's
servant； was beginning to pay court to her。
〃Let me alone；〃 she said； moving her pot of starch。 〃You'd better
be off and pound almonds； you are always dangling about women。
Before you meddle with such things； bad boy； wait till you've got
a beard to your chin。〃
〃Oh； don't be cross！ I'll go and clean her boots。〃
And he at once took down from the shelf Emma's boots； all coated
with mud； the mud of the rendezvous； that crumbled into powder
beneath his fingers； and that he watched as it gently rose in a
ray of sunlight。
〃How afraid you are of spoiling them！〃 said the servant； who
wasn't so particular when she cleaned them herself； because as
soon as the stuff of the boots was no longer fresh madame handed
them over to her。
Emma had a number in her cupboard that she squandered one after
the other； without Charles allowing himself the slightest
observation。 So also he disbursed three hundred francs for a
wooden leg that she thought proper to make a present of to
Hippolyte。 Its top was covered with cork； and it had spring
joints； a complicated mechanism； covered over by black trousers
ending in a patent…leather boot。 But Hippolyte； not daring to use
such a handsome leg every day； begged Madame Bovary to get him
another more convenient one。 The doctor； of course； had again to
defray the expense of this purchase。
So little by little the stable…man took up his work again。 One
saw him running about the village as before； and when Charles
heard from afar the sharp noise of the wooden leg； he at once
went in another direction。
It was Monsieur Lheureux； the shopkeeper； who had undertaken the
order； this provided him with an excuse for visiting Emma。 He
chatted with her about the new goods from Paris； about a thousand
feminine trifles； made himself very obliging； and never asked for
his money。 Emma yielded to this lazy mode of satisfying all her
caprices。 Thus she wanted to have a very handsome ridding…whip
that was at an umbrella…maker's at Rouen to give to Rodolphe。 The
week after Monsieur Lheureux placed it on her table。
But the next day he called on her with a bill for two hundred and
seventy francs； not counting the centimes。 Emma was much
embarrassed； all the drawers of the writing…table were empty；
they owed over a fortnight's wages to Lestiboudois； two quarters
to the servant； for any quantity of other things； and Bovary was
impatiently expecting Monsieur Derozeray's account； which he was
in the habit of paying every year about Midsummer。
She succeeded at first in putting off Lheureux。 At last he lost
patience； he was being sued； his capital was out； and unless he
got some in he should be forced to take back all the goods she
had received。
〃Oh； very well； take them！〃 said Emma。
〃I was only joking；〃 he replied； 〃the only thing I regret is the
whip。 My word！ I'll ask monsieur to return it to me。〃
〃No； no！〃 she said。
〃Ah！ I've got you！〃 thought Lheureux。
And； certain of his discovery； he went out repeating to himself
in an undertone； and with his usual low whistle
〃Good！ we shall see！ we shall see！〃
She was thinking how to get out of this when the servant coming
in put on the mantelpiece a small roll of blue paper 〃from
Monsieur Derozeray's。〃 Emma pounced upon and opened it。 It
contained fifteen napoleons； it was the account。 She heard
Charles on the stairs； threw the gold to the back of her drawer；
and took out the key
Three days after Lheureux reappeared。
〃I have an arrangement to suggest to you；〃 he said。 〃If； instead
of the sum agreed on； you would take〃
〃Here it is；〃 she said placing fourteen napoleons in his hand。
The tradesman was dumfounded。 Then； to conceal his
disappointment； he was profuse in apologies and proffers of
service； all of which Emma declined； then she remained a few
moments fingering in the pocket of her apron the two five…franc
pieces that he had given her in change。 She promised herself she
would economise in order to pay back later on。 〃Pshaw！〃 she
thought； 〃he won't think about it again。〃
Besides the riding…whip with its silver…gilt handle； Rodolphe had
received a seal with the motto Amor nel cor* furthermore； a scarf
for a muffler； and； finally； a cigar…case exactly like the
Viscount's； that Charles had formerly picked up in the road； and
that Emma had kept。 These presents； however； humiliated him； he
refused several； she insisted； and he ended by obeying； thinking
her tyrannical and overexacting。
*A loving heart。
Then she had strange ideas。
〃When midnight strikes；〃 she said； 〃you must think of me。〃
And if he confessed that he had not thought of her； there were
floods of reproaches that always ended with the eternal question
〃Do you love me？〃
〃Why； of course I love you；〃 he answered。
〃A great deal？〃
〃Certainly！〃
〃You haven't loved any others？〃
〃Did you think you'd got a virgin？〃 he exclaimed laughing。
Emma cried； and he tried to console her； adorning his
protestations with puns。
〃Oh；〃 she went on； 〃I love you！ I love you so that I could not
live without you； do you see？ There are times when I long to see
you again； when I am torn by all the anger of love。 I ask myself；
Where is he？ Perhaps he is talking to other women。 They smile
upon him； he approaches。 Oh no； no one else pleases you。 There
are some more beautiful； but I love you best。 I know how to love
best。 I am your servant； your concubine！ You are my king； my
idol！ You are good； you are beautiful； you are clever； you are
strong！〃
He had so often heard these things said that they did not strike
him as original。 Emma was like all his mistresses； and the charm
of novelty； gradually falling away like a garment； laid bare the
eternal monotony of passion； that has always the same forms and
the same language。 He did not distinguish； this man of so much
experience； the difference of sentiment beneath the sameness of
expression。 Because lips libertine and venal had murmured such
words to him； he believed but little in the candour of hers；
exaggerated speeches hiding mediocre affections must be
discounted； as if the fullness of the soul did not sometimes
overflow in the emptiest metaphors； since no one can ever give
the exact measure of his needs； nor of his conceptions； nor of
his sorrows； and since human speech is l