Theyhadall，MonsieurandMadameBovary，Homais，andMonsieurLeon，gonetoseeayarn-millthatwasbeingbuiltinthevalleyamileandahalffromYonville。ThedruggisthadtakenNapoleonandAthalietogivethemsomeexercise，andJustinaccompaniedthem，carryingtheumbrellasonhisshoulder。
　　Nothing，however，couldbelesscuriousthanthiscuriosity。A
　　greatpieceofwasteground，onwhichpell-mell，amidamassofsandandstones，wereafewbreak-wheels，alreadyrusty，surroundedbyaquadrangularbuildingpiercedbyanumberoflittlewindows。Thebuildingwasunfinished；theskycouldbeseenthroughthejoistsoftheroofing。Attachedtothestop-plankofthegableabunchofstrawmixedwithcorn-earsfluttereditstricolouredribbonsinthewind。
　　Homaiswastalking。Heexplainedtothecompanythefutureimportanceofthisestablishment，computedthestrengthofthefloorings，thethicknessofthewalls，andregrettedextremelynothavingayard-sticksuchasMonsieurBinetpossessedforhisownspecialuse。
　　Emma，whohadtakenhisarm，bentlightlyagainsthisshoulder，andshelookedatthesun’sdiscsheddingafarthroughthemisthispalesplendour。Sheturned。Charleswasthere。Hiscapwasdrawndownoverhiseyebrows，andhistwothicklipsweretrembling，whichaddedalookofstupiditytohisface；hisveryback，hiscalmback，wasirritatingtobehold，andshesawwrittenuponhiscoatalltheplatitudeofthebearer。
　　Whileshewasconsideringhimthus，tastinginherirritationasortofdepravedpleasure，Leonmadeastepforward。Thecoldthatmadehimpaleseemedtoaddamoregentlelanguortohisface；betweenhiscravatandhisneckthesomewhatloosecollarofhisshirtshowedtheskin；thelobeofhisearlookedoutfrombeneathalockofhair，andhislargeblueeyes，raisedtotheclouds，seemedtoEmmamorelimpidandmorebeautifulthanthosemountain-lakeswheretheheavensaremirrored。
　　“Wretchedboy!“suddenlycriedthechemist。
　　Andherantohisson，whohadjustprecipitatedhimselfintoaheapoflimeinordertowhitenhisboots。AtthereproacheswithwhichhewasbeingoverwhelmedNapoleonbegantoroar，whileJustindriedhisshoeswithawispofstraw。Butaknifewaswanted；Charlesofferedhis。
　　“Ah!“shesaidtoherself，“hecarriedaknifeinhispocketlikeapeasant。“
　　Thehoar-frostwasfalling，andtheyturnedbacktoYonville。
　　IntheeveningMadameBovarydidnotgotoherneighbour’s，andwhenCharleshadleftandshefeltherselfalone，thecomparisonre-beganwiththeclearnessofasensationalmostactual，andwiththatlengtheningofperspectivewhichmemorygivestothings。Lookingfromherbedatthecleanfirethatwasburning，shestillsaw，asshehaddownthere，Leonstandingupwithonehandbehindhiscane，andwiththeotherholdingAthalie，whowasquietlysuckingapieceofice。Shethoughthimcharming；shecouldnottearherselfawayfromhim；sherecalledhisotherattitudesonotherdays，thewordshehadspoken，thesoundofhisvoice，hiswholeperson；andsherepeated，poutingoutherlipsasifforakiss——
　　“Yes，charming!charming!Ishenotinlove？“sheaskedherself；
　　“butwithwhom？Withme？“
　　Alltheproofsarosebeforeheratonce；herheartleapt。Theflameofthefirethrewajoyouslightupontheceiling；sheturnedonherback，stretchingoutherarms。
　　Thenbegantheeternallamentation：“Oh，ifHeavenhadoutwilledit!Andwhynot？Whatpreventedit？“
　　WhenCharlescamehomeatmidnight，sheseemedtohavejustawakened，andashemadeanoiseundressing，shecomplainedofaheadache，thenaskedcarelesslywhathadhappenedthatevening。
　　“MonsieurLeon，“hesaid，“wenttohisroomearly。“
　　Shecouldnothelpsmiling，andshefellasleep，hersoulfilledwithanewdelight。
　　Thenextday，atdusk，shereceivedavisitfromMonsieurLherueux，thedraper。Hewasamanofability，wasthisshopkeeper。BornaGasconbutbredaNorman，hegrafteduponhissouthernvolubilitythecunningoftheCauchois。Hisfat，flabby，beardlessfaceseemeddyedbyadecoctionofliquorice，andhiswhitehairmadeevenmorevividthekeenbrillianceofhissmallblackeyes。Nooneknewwhathehadbeenformerly；apedlarsaidsome，abankeratRoutotaccordingtoothers。WhatwascertainwasthathemadecomplexcalculationsinhisheadthatwouldhavefrightenedBinethimself。Politetoobsequiousness，healwaysheldhimselfwithhisbackbentinthepositionofonewhobowsorwhoinvites。
　　Afterleavingatthedoorhishatsurroundedwithcrape，heputdownagreenbandboxonthetable，andbeganbycomplainingtomadame，withmanycivilities，thatheshouldhaveremainedtillthatdaywithoutgainingherconfidence。Apoorshoplikehiswasnotmadetoattracta“fashionablelady“；heemphasizedthewords；yetshehadonlytocommand，andhewouldundertaketoprovideherwithanythingshemightwish，eitherinhaberdasheryorlinen，millineryorfancygoods，forhewenttotownregularlyfourtimesamonth。Hewasconnectedwiththebesthouses。Youcouldspeakofhimatthe“TroisFreres，“atthe“Barbed’Or，“oratthe“GrandSauvage“；allthesegentlemenknewhimaswellastheinsidesoftheirpockets。To-day，thenhehadcometoshowmadame，inpassing，variousarticleshehappenedtohave，thankstothemostrareopportunity。Andhepulledouthalf-a-dozenembroideredcollarsfromthebox。
　　MadameBovaryexaminedthem。“Idonotrequireanything，“shesaid。
　　ThenMonsieurLheureuxdelicatelyexhibitedthreeAlgerianscarves，severalpacketofEnglishneedles，apairofstrawslippers，andfinally，foureggcupsincocoanutwood，carvedinopenworkbyconvicts。Then，withbothhandsonthetable，hisneckstretchedout，hisfigurebentforward，open-mouthed，hewatchedEmma’slook，whowaswalkingupanddownundecidedamidthesegoods。Fromtimetotime，asiftoremovesomedust，hefillipedwithhisnailthesilkofthescarvesspreadoutatfulllength，andtheyrustledwithalittlenoise，makinginthegreentwilightthegoldspanglesoftheirtissuescintillatelikelittlestars。
　　“Howmucharethey？“
　　“Amerenothing，“hereplied，“amerenothing。Butthere’snohurry；wheneverit’sconvenient。WearenotJews。“
　　Shereflectedforafewmoments，andendedbyagaindecliningMonsieurLheureux’soffer。Herepliedquiteunconcernedly——
　　“Verywell。Weshallunderstandoneanotherbyandby。Ihavealwaysgotonwithladies——ifIdidn’twithmyown!“
　　Emmasmiled。
　　“Iwantedtotellyou，“hewentongood-naturedly，afterhisjoke，“thatitisn’tthemoneyIshouldtroubleabout。Why，I
　　couldgiveyousome，ifneedbe。“
　　Shemadeagestureofsurprise。
　　“Ah!“saidhequicklyandinalowvoice，“Ishouldn’thavetogofartofindyousome，relyonthat。“
　　AndhebeganaskingafterPereTellier，theproprietorofthe“CafeFrancais，“whomMonsieurBovarywasthenattending。
　　“What’sthematterwithPereTellier？Hecoughssothatheshakeshiswholehouse，andI’mafraidhe’llsoonwantadealcoveringratherthanaflannelvest。Hewassucharakeasayoungman!
　　Thosesortofpeople，madame，havenottheleastregularity；he’sburntupwithbrandy。Stillit’ssad，allthesame，toseeanacquaintancegooff。“
　　Andwhilehefasteneduphisboxhediscoursedaboutthedoctor’spatients。
　　“It’stheweather，nodoubt，“hesaid，lookingfrowninglyatthefloor，“thatcausestheseillnesses。I，too，don’tfeelthething。OneofthesedaysIshallevenhavetoconsultthedoctorforapainIhaveinmyback。Well，good-bye，MadameBovary。Atyourservice；yourveryhumbleservant。“Andheclosedthedoorgently。
　　Emmahadherdinnerservedinherbedroomonatraybythefireside；shewasalongtimeoverit；everythingwaswellwithher。
　　“HowgoodIwas!“shesaidtoherself，thinkingofthescarves。
　　Sheheardsomestepsonthestairs。ItwasLeon。Shegotupandtookfromthechestofdrawersthefirstpileofdusterstobehemmed。Whenhecameinsheseemedverybusy。
　　Theconversationlanguished；MadameBovarygaveitupeveryfewminutes，whilsthehimselfseemedquiteembarrassed。Seatedonalowchairnearthefire，heturnedroundinhisfingerstheivorythimble-case。Shestitchedon，orfromtimetotimeturneddownthehemoftheclothwithhernail。Shedidnotspeak；hewassilent，captivatedbyhersilence，ashewouldhavebeenbyherspeech。
　　“Poorfellow!“shethought。
　　“HowhaveIdispleasedher？“heaskedhimself。
　　Atlast，however，Leonsaidthatheshouldhave，oneofthesedays，togotoRouenonsomeofficebusiness。
　　“Yourmusicsubscriptionisout；amItorenewit？“
　　“No，“shereplied。
　　“Why？“
　　“Because——“
　　Andpursingherlipssheslowlydrewalongstitchofgreythread。
　　ThisworkirritatedLeon。Itseemedtoroughentheendsofherfingers。Agallantphrasecameintohishead，buthedidnotriskit。
　　“Thenyouaregivingitup？“hewenton。
　　“What？“sheaskedhurriedly。“Music？Ah!yes!HaveInotmyhousetolookafter，myhusbandtoattendto，athousandthings，infact，manydutiesthatmustbeconsideredfirst？“