andhewould，butforhiswife’sobjections，havetakenhistwosonswithhim，inordertoaccustomthemtogreatoccasions；thatthismightbealesson，anexample，asolemnpicture，thatshouldremainintheirheadslateron。
　　Theroomwhentheywentinwasfullofmournfulsolemnity。Onthework-table，coveredoverwithawhitecloth，therewerefiveorsixsmallballsofcottoninasilverdish，nearalargecrucifixbetweentwolightedcandles。
　　Emma，herchinsunkenuponherbreast，hadhereyesinordinatelywideopen，andherpoorhandswanderedoverthesheetswiththathideousandsoftmovementofthedying，thatseemsasiftheywantedalreadytocoverthemselveswiththeshroud。Paleasastatueandwitheyesredasfire，Charles，notweeping，stoodoppositeheratthefootofthebed，whilethepriest，bendingoneknee，wasmutteringwordsinalowvoice。
　　Sheturnedherfaceslowly，andseemedfilledwithjoyonseeingsuddenlythevioletstole，nodoubtfindingagain，inthemidstofatemporarylullinherpain，thelostvoluptuousnessofherfirstmysticaltransports，withthevisionsofeternalbeatitudethatwerebeginning。
　　Thepriestrosetotakethecrucifix；thenshestretchedforwardherneckasonewhoisathirst，andglueingherlipstothebodyoftheMan-God，shepresseduponitwithallherexpiringstrengththefullestkissoflovethatshehadevergiven。ThenherecitedtheMisereaturandtheIndulgentiam，dippedhisrightthumbintheoil，andbegantogiveextremeunction。Firstupontheeyes，thathadsocovetedallworldlypomp；thenuponthenostrils，thathadbeengreedyofthewarmbreezeandamorousodours；thenuponthemouth，thathadutteredlies，thathadcurledwithprideandcriedoutinlewdness；thenuponthehandsthathaddelightedinsensualtouches；andfinallyuponthesolesofthefeet，soswiftofyore，whenshewasrunningtosatisfyherdesires，andthatwouldnowwalknomore。
　　Thecurewipedhisfingers，threwthebitofcottondippedinoilintothefire，andcameandsatdownbythedyingwoman，totellherthatshemustnowblendhersufferingswiththoseofJesusChristandabandonherselftothedivinemercy。
　　Finishinghisexhortations，hetriedtoplaceinherhandablessedcandle，symbolofthecelestialglorywithwhichshewassoontobesurrounded。Emma，tooweak，couldnotcloseherfingers，andthetaper，butforMonsieurBournisienwouldhavefallentotheground。
　　However，shewasnotquitesopale，andherfacehadanexpressionofserenityasifthesacramenthadcuredher。
　　Thepriestdidnotfailtopointthisout；heevenexplainedtoBovarythattheLordsometimesprolongedthelifeofpersonswhenhethoughtitmeetfortheirsalvation；andCharlesrememberedthedaywhen，soneardeath，shehadreceivedthecommunion。
　　Perhapstherewasnoneedtodespair，hethought。
　　Infact，shelookedaroundherslowly，asoneawakeningfromadream；theninadistinctvoicesheaskedforherlooking-glass，andremainedsometimebendingoverit，untilthebigtearsfellfromhereyes。Thensheturnedawayherheadwithasighandfellbackuponthepillows。
　　Herchestsoonbeganpantingrapidly；thewholeofhertongueprotrudedfromhermouth；hereyes，astheyrolled，grewpaler，likethetwoglobesofalampthatisgoingout，sothatonemighthavethoughtheralreadydeadbutforthefearfullabouringofherribs，shakenbyviolentbreathing，asifthesoulwerestrugglingtofreeitself。Felicitekneltdownbeforethecrucifix，andthedruggisthimselfslightlybenthisknees，whileMonsieurCanivetlookedoutvaguelyatthePlace。Bournisienhadagainbeguntopray，hisfacebowedagainsttheedgeofthebed，hislongblackcassocktrailingbehindhimintheroom。Charleswasontheotherside，onhisknees，hisarmsoutstretchedtowardsEmma。Hehadtakenherhandsandpressedthem，shudderingateverybeatofherheart，asattheshakingofafallingruin。
　　Asthedeath-rattlebecamestrongerthepriestprayedfaster；hisprayersmingledwiththestifledsobsofBovary，andsometimesallseemedlostinthemuffledmurmuroftheLatinsyllablesthattolledlikeapassingbell。
　　Suddenlyonthepavementwasheardaloudnoiseofclogsandtheclatteringofastick；andavoicerose——araucousvoice——thatsang——
　　“MaidsanthewarmthofasummerdayDreamofloveandoflovealways“
　　Emmaraisedherselflikeagalvanisedcorpse，herhairundone，hereyesfixed，staring。
　　“Wherethesicklebladeshavebeen，Nannette，gatheringearsofcorn，Passesbendingdown，myqueen，Totheearthwheretheywereborn。“
　　“Theblindman!“shecried。AndEmmabegantolaugh，anatrocious，frantic，despairinglaugh，thinkingshesawthehideousfaceofthepoorwretchthatstoodoutagainsttheeternalnightlikeamenace。
　　“Thewindisstrongthissummerday，Herpetticoathasflownaway。“
　　Shefellbackuponthemattressinaconvulsion。Theyalldrewnear。Shewasdead。
　　ChapterNineThereisalwaysafterthedeathofanyoneakindofstupefaction；
　　sodifficultisittograspthisadventofnothingnessandtoresignourselvestobelieveinit。Butstill，whenhesawthatshedidnotmove，Charlesthrewhimselfuponher，crying——
　　“Farewell!farewell!“
　　HomaisandCanivetdraggedhimfromtheroom。
　　“Restrainyourself“
　　“Yes。“saidhe，struggling，“I’llbequiet。I’llnotdoanything。
　　Butleavemealone。Iwanttoseeher。Sheismywife!“
　　Andhewept。
　　“Cry，“saidthechemist；“letnaturetakehercourse；thatwillsolaceyou。“
　　Weakerthanachild，Charleslethimselfbeleddownstairsintothesitting-room，andMonsieurHomaissoonwenthome。OnthePlacehewasaccostedbytheblindman，who，havingdraggedhimselfasfarasYonville，inthehopeofgettingtheantiphlogisticpomade，wasaskingeverypasser-bywherethedruggistlived。
　　“Therenow!asifIhadn’tgototherfishtofry。Well，somuchtheworse；youmustcomelateron。“
　　Andheenteredtheshophurriedly。
　　Hehadtowritetwoletters，toprepareasoothingpotionforBovary，toinventsomeliethatwouldconcealthepoisoning，andworkitupintoanarticleforthe“Fanal，“withoutcountingthepeoplewhowerewaitingtogetthenewsfromhim；andwhentheYonvillershadallheardhisstoryofthearsenicthatshehadmistakenforsugarinmakingavanillacream。HomaisoncemorereturnedtoBovary’s。
　　HefoundhimaloneMonsieurCanivethadleft，sittinginanarm-chairnearthewindow，staringwithanidioticlookattheflagsofthefloor。
　　“Now，“saidthechemist，“yououghtyourselftofixthehourfortheceremony。“
　　“Why？Whatceremony？“Then，inastammering，frightenedvoice，“Oh，no!notthat。No!Iwanttoseeherhere。“
　　Homais，tokeephimselfincountenance，tookupawater-bottleonthewhatnottowaterthegeraniums。
　　“Ah!thanks，“saidCharles；“youaregood。“
　　Buthedidnotfinish，chokingbeneaththecrowdofmemoriesthatthisactionofthedruggistrecalledtohim。
　　Thentodistracthim，Homaisthoughtfittotalkalittlehorticulture：plantswantedhumidity。Charlesbowedhisheadinsignofapprobation。
　　“Besides，thefinedayswillsoonbehereagain。“
　　“Ah!“saidBovary。
　　Thedruggist，athiswit’send，begansoftlytodrawasidethesmallwindow-curtain。
　　“Hallo!there’sMonsieurTuvachepassing。“
　　Charlesrepeatedlikeamachine——
　　“MonsieurTuvachepassing!“
　　Homaisdidnotdaretospeaktohimagainaboutthefuneralarrangements；itwasthepriestwhosucceededinreconcilinghimtothem。
　　Heshuthimselfupinhisconsulting-room，tookapen，andaftersobbingforsometime，wrote——
　　“Iwishhertobeburiedinherwedding-dress，withwhiteshoes，andawreath。Herhairistobespreadoutoverhershoulders。
　　Threecoffins，oneofoak，oneofmahogany，oneoflead。Letnoonesayanythingtome。Ishallhavestrength。Overallthereistobeplacedalargepieceofgreenvelvet。Thisismywish；seethatitisdone。“
　　ThetwomenweremuchsurprisedatBovary’sromanticideas。Thechemistatoncewenttohimandsaid——
　　“Thisvelvetseemstomeasuperfetation。Besides，theexpense——“
　　“What’sthattoyou？“criedCharles。“Leaveme!Youdidnotloveher。Go!“
　　Thepriesttookhimbythearmforaturninthegarden。Hediscoursedonthevanityofearthlythings。Godwasverygreat，wasverygood：onemustsubmittohisdecreeswithoutamurmur；
　　nay，musteventhankhim。
　　Charlesburstoutintoblasphemies：“IhateyourGod!“
　　“Thespiritofrebellionisstilluponyou，“sighedtheecclesiastic。