“Heisjustcoming，“heanswered。
　　Andinfactthedoorofthepresbyterygrated；AbbeBournisienappeared；thechildren，pell-mell，fledintothechurch。
　　“Theseyoungscamps!“murmuredthepriest，“alwaysthesame!“
　　Then，pickingupacatechismallinragsthathehadstruckwithisfoot，“Theyrespectnothing!“ButassoonashecaughtsightofMadameBovary，“Excuseme，“hesaid；“Ididnotrecogniseyou。“
　　Hethrustthecatechismintohispocket，andstoppedshort，balancingtheheavyvestrykeybetweenhistwofingers。
　　Thelightofthesettingsunthatfellfulluponhisfacepaledthelastingofhiscassock，shinyattheelbows，unravelledatthehem。Greaseandtobaccostainsfollowedalonghisbroadchestthelinesofthebuttons，andgrewmorenumerousthefarthertheywerefromhisneckcloth，inwhichthemassivefoldsofhisredchinrested；thiswasdottedwithyellowspots，thatdisappearedbeneaththecoarsehairofhisgreyishbeard。Hehadjustdinedandwasbreathingnoisily。
　　“Howareyou？“headded。
　　“Notwell，“repliedEmma；“Iamill。“
　　“Well，andsoamI，“answeredthepriest。“Thesefirstwarmdaysweakenonemostremarkably，don’tthey？But，afterall，weareborntosuffer，asSt。Paulsays。ButwhatdoesMonsieurBovarythinkofit？“
　　“He!“shesaidwithagestureofcontempt。
　　“What!“repliedthegoodfellow，quiteastonished，doesn’theprescribesomethingforyou？“
　　“Ah!“saidEmma，“itisnoearthlyremedyIneed。“
　　Butthecurefromtimetotimelookedintothechurch，wherethekneelingboyswereshoulderingoneanother，andtumblingoverlikepacksofcards。
　　“Ishouldliketoknow——“shewenton。
　　“Youlookout，Riboudet，“criedthepriestinanangryvoice；
　　“I’llwarmyourears，youimp!“ThenturningtoEmma，“He’sBoudetthecarpenter’sson；hisparentsarewelloff，andlethimdojustashepleases。Yethecouldlearnquicklyifhewould，forheisverysharp。AndsosometimesforajokeIcallhimRiboudetliketheroadonetakestogotoMarommeandIevensay’MonRiboudet。’Ha!Ha!’MontRiboudet。’TheotherdayI
　　repeatedthatjusttoMonsignor，andhelaughedatit；hecondescendedtolaughatit。AndhowisMonsieurBovary？“
　　Sheseemednottohearhim。Andhewenton——
　　“Alwaysverybusy，nodoubt；forheandIarecertainlythebusiestpeopleintheparish。Butheisdoctorofthebody，“headdedwithathicklaugh，“andIofthesoul。“
　　Shefixedherpleadingeyesuponthepriest。“Yes，“shesaid，“yousolaceallsorrows。“
　　“Ah!don’ttalktomeofit，MadameBovary。ThismorningIhadtogotoBas-Diauvilleforacowthatwasill；theythoughtitwasunderaspell。Alltheircows，Idon’tknowhowitis——Butpardonme!LonguemarreandBoudet!Blessme!Willyouleaveoff？“
　　Andwithaboundheranintothechurch。
　　Theboyswerejustthenclusteringroundthelargedesk，climbingovertheprecentor’sfootstool，openingthemissal；andothersontiptoewerejustabouttoventureintotheconfessional。Butthepriestsuddenlydistributedashowerofcuffsamongthem。Seizingthembythecollarsoftheircoats，heliftedthemfromtheground，anddepositedthemontheirkneesonthestonesofthechoir，firmly，asifhemeantplantingthemthere。
　　“Yes，“saidhe，whenhereturnedtoEmma，unfoldinghislargecottonhandkerchief，onecornerofwhichheputbetweenhisteeth，“farmersaremuchtobepitied。“
　　“Others，too，“shereplied。
　　“Assuredly。Town-labourers，forexample。“
　　“Itisnotthey——“
　　“Pardon!I’vethereknownpoormothersoffamilies，virtuouswomen，Iassureyou，realsaints，whowantedevenbread。“
　　“Butthose，“repliedEmma，andthecornersofhermouthtwitchedasshespoke，“those，MonsieurleCure，whohavebreadandhaveno——“
　　“Fireinthewinter，“saidthepriest。
　　“Oh，whatdoesthatmatter？“
　　“What!Whatdoesitmatter？Itseemstomethatwhenonehasfiringandfood——for，afterall——“
　　“MyGod!myGod!“shesighed。
　　“Itisindigestion，nodoubt？Youmustgethome，MadameBovary；
　　drinkalittletea，thatwillstrengthenyou，orelseaglassoffreshwaterwithalittlemoistsugar。“
　　“Why？“Andshelookedlikeoneawakingfromadream。
　　“Well，yousee，youwereputtingyourhandtoyourforehead。I
　　thoughtyoufeltfaint。“Then，bethinkinghimself，“Butyouwereaskingmesomething？Whatwasit？Ireallydon’tremember。“
　　“I？Nothing!nothing!“repeatedEmma。
　　Andtheglanceshecastroundherslowlyfellupontheoldmaninthecassock。Theylookedatoneanotherfacetofacewithoutspeaking。
　　“Then，MadameBovary，“hesaidatlast，“excuseme，butdutyfirst，youknow；Imustlookaftermygood-for-nothings。Thefirstcommunionwillsoonbeuponus，andIfearweshallbebehindafterall。SoafterAscensionDayIkeepthemrecta*anextrahoureveryWednesday。Poorchildren!OnecannotleadthemtoosoonintothepathoftheLord，as，moreover，hehashimselfrecommendedustodobythemouthofhisDivineSon。Goodhealthtoyou，madame；myrespectstoyourhusband。“
　　*Onthestraightandnarrowpath。
　　Andhewentintothechurchmakingagenuflexionassoonashereachedthedoor。
　　Emmasawhimdisappearbetweenthedoublerowofforms，walkingwithaheavytread，hisheadalittlebentoverhisshoulder，andwithhistwohandshalf-openbehindhim。
　　Thensheturnedonherheelallofonepiece，likeastatueonapivot，andwenthomewards。Buttheloudvoiceofthepriest，theclearvoicesoftheboysstillreachedherears，andwentonbehindher。
　　“AreyouaChristian？“
　　“Yes，IamaChristian。“
　　“WhatisaChristian？“
　　“Hewho，beingbaptized-baptized-baptized——“
　　Shewentupthestepsofthestaircaseholdingontothebanisters，andwhenshewasinherroomthrewherselfintoanarm-chair。
　　Thewhitishlightofthewindow-panesfellwithsoftundulations。
　　Thefurnitureinitsplaceseemedtohavebecomemoreimmobile，andtoloseitselfintheshadowasinanoceanofdarkness。Thefirewasout，theclockwentonticking，andEmmavaguelymarvelledatthiscalmofallthingswhilewithinherselfwassuchtumult。ButlittleBerthewasthere，betweenthewindowandthework-table，totteringonherknittedshoes，andtryingtocometohermothertocatchholdoftheendsofherapron-strings。
　　“Leavemealone，“saidthelatter，puttingherfromherwithherhand。
　　Thelittlegirlsooncameupcloseragainstherknees，andleaningonthemwithherarms，shelookedupwithherlargeblueeyes，whileasmallthreadofpuresalivadribbledfromherlipsontothesilkapron。
　　“Leavemealone，“repeatedtheyoungwomanquiteirritably。
　　Herfacefrightenedthechild，whobegantoscream。
　　“Willyouleavemealone？“shesaid，pushingherwithherelbow。
　　Berthefellatthefootofthedrawersagainstthebrasshandle，cuttinghercheek，whichbegantobleed，againstit。MadameBovarysprangtoliftherup，brokethebell-rope，calledfortheservantwithallhermight，andshewasjustgoingtocurseherselfwhenCharlesappeared。Itwasthedinner-hour；hehadcomehome。
　　“Look，dear!“saidEmma，inacalmvoice，“thelittleonefelldownwhileshewasplaying，andhashurtherself。“
　　Charlesreassuredher；thecasewasnotaseriousone，andhewentforsomestickingplaster。
　　MadameBovarydidnotgodownstairstothedining-room；shewishedtoremainalonetolookafterthechild。Thenwatchinghersleep，thelittleanxietyshefeltgraduallyworeoff，andsheseemedverystupidtoherself，andverygoodtohavebeensoworriedjustnowatsolittle。Berthe，infact，nolongersobbed。
　　Herbreathingnowimperceptiblyraisedthecottoncovering。Bigtearslayinthecornerofthehalf-closedeyelids，throughwhoselashesonecouldseetwopalesunkenpupils；theplasterstuckonhercheekdrewtheskinobliquely。