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the door。 But the chemist's shop was full of people； he had the
greatest difficulty in getting rid of Monsieur Tuvache； who
feared his spouse would get inflammation of the lungs； because
she was in the habit of spitting on the ashes； then of Monsieur
Binet； who sometimes experienced sudden attacks of great hunger；
and of Madame Caron； who suffered from tinglings； of Lheureux；
who had vertigo； of Lestiboudois； who had rheumatism； and of
Madame Lefrancois； who had heartburn。 At last the three horses
started； and it was the general opinion that he had not shown
himself at all obliging。
Public attention was distracted by the appearance of Monsieur
Bournisien； who was going across the market with the holy oil。
Homais； as was due to his principles； compared priests to ravens
attracted by the odour of death。 The sight of an ecclesiastic was
personally disagreeable to him； for the cassock made him think of
the shroud； and he detested the one from some fear of the other。
Nevertheless； not shrinking from what he called his mission； he
returned to Bovary's in company with Canivet whom Monsieur
Lariviere； before leaving； had strongly urged to make this visit；
and he would； but for his wife's objections； have taken his two
sons with him； in order to accustom them to great occasions； that
this might be a lesson； an example； a solemn picture； that should
remain in their heads later on。
The room when they went in was full of mournful solemnity。 On the
work…table； covered over with a white cloth； there were five or
six small balls of cotton in a silver dish； near a large crucifix
between two lighted candles。
Emma； her chin sunken upon her breast； had her eyes inordinately
wide open； and her poor hands wandered over the sheets with that
hideous and soft movement of the dying； that seems as if they
wanted already to cover themselves with the shroud。 Pale as a
statue and with eyes red as fire； Charles； not weeping； stood
opposite her at the foot of the bed； while the priest； bending
one knee； was muttering words in a low voice。
She turned her face slowly； and seemed filled with joy on seeing
suddenly the violet stole； no doubt finding again； in the midst
of a temporary lull in her pain； the lost voluptuousness of her
first mystical transports； with the visions of eternal beatitude
that were beginning。
The priest rose to take the crucifix； then she stretched forward
her neck as one who is athirst； and glueing her lips to the body
of the Man…God； she pressed upon it with all her expiring
strength the fullest kiss of love that she had ever given。 Then
he recited the Misereatur and the Indulgentiam； dipped his right
thumb in the oil； and began to give extreme unction。 First upon
the eyes； that had so coveted all worldly pomp； then upon the
nostrils； that had been greedy of the warm breeze and amorous
odours； then upon the mouth； that had uttered lies； that had
curled with pride and cried out in lewdness； then upon the hands
that had delighted in sensual touches； and finally upon the soles
of the feet； so swift of yore； when she was running to satisfy
her desires； and that would now walk no more。
The cure wiped his fingers； threw the bit of cotton dipped in oil
into the fire； and came and sat down by the dying woman； to tell
her that she must now blend her sufferings with those of Jesus
Christ and abandon herself to the divine mercy。
Finishing his exhortations； he tried to place in her hand a
blessed candle； symbol of the celestial glory with which she was
soon to be surrounded。 Emma； too weak； could not close her
fingers； and the taper； but for Monsieur Bournisien would have
fallen to the ground。
However； she was not quite so pale； and her face had an
expression of serenity as if the sacrament had cured her。
The priest did not fail to point this out； he even explained to
Bovary that the Lord sometimes prolonged the life of persons when
he thought it meet for their salvation； and Charles remembered
the day when； so near death； she had received the communion。
Perhaps there was no need to despair； he thought。
In fact； she looked around her slowly； as one awakening from a
dream； then in a distinct voice she asked for her looking…glass；
and remained some time bending over it； until the big tears fell
from her eyes。 Then she turned away her head with a sigh and fell
back upon the pillows。
Her chest soon began panting rapidly； the whole of her tongue
protruded from her mouth； her eyes； as they rolled； grew paler；
like the two globes of a lamp that is going out； so that one
might have thought her already dead but for the fearful labouring
of her ribs； shaken by violent breathing； as if the soul were
struggling to free itself。 Felicite knelt down before the
crucifix； and the druggist himself slightly bent his knees； while
Monsieur Canivet looked out vaguely at the Place。 Bournisien had
again begun to pray； his face bowed against the edge of the bed；
his long black cassock trailing behind him in the room。 Charles
was on the other side； on his knees； his arms outstretched
towards Emma。 He had taken her hands and pressed them； shuddering
at every beat of her heart； as at the shaking of a falling ruin。
As the death…rattle became stronger the priest prayed faster； his
prayers mingled with the stifled sobs of Bovary； and sometimes
all seemed lost in the muffled murmur of the Latin syllables that
tolled like a passing bell。
Suddenly on the pavement was heard a loud noise of clogs and the
clattering of a stick； and a voice rosea raucous voicethat
sang
〃Maids an the warmth of a summer day
Dream of love and of love always〃
Emma raised herself like a galvanised corpse； her hair undone；
her eyes fixed； staring。
〃Where the sickle blades have been；
Nannette； gathering ears of corn；
Passes bending down； my queen；
To the earth where they were born。〃
〃The blind man！〃 she cried。 And Emma began to laugh； an
atrocious； frantic； despairing laugh； thinking she saw the
hideous face of the poor wretch that stood out against the
eternal night like a menace。
〃The wind is strong this summer day；
Her petticoat has flown away。〃
She fell back upon the mattress in a convulsion。 They all drew
near。 She was dead。
Chapter Nine
There is always after the death of anyone a kind of stupefaction；
so difficult is it to grasp this advent of nothingness and to
resign ourselves to believe in it。 But still； when he saw that
she did not move； Charles threw himself upon her； crying
〃Farewell！ farewell！〃
Homais and Canivet dragged him from the room。
〃Restrain yourself 〃
〃Yes。〃 said he； struggling； 〃I'll be quiet。 I'll not do anything。
But leave me alone。 I want to see her。 She is my wife！〃
And he wept。
〃Cry；〃 said the chemist； 〃let nature take her course； that will
solace you。〃
Weaker than a child； Charles let himself be led downstairs into
the sitting…room； and Monsieur Homais soon went home。 On the
Place he was accosted by the blind man； who； having dragged
himself as far as Yonville； in the hope of getting the
antiphlogistic pomade； was asking every passer…by where the
druggist lived。
〃There now！ as if I hadn't got other fish to fry。 Well； so much
the worse； you must come later