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any more bills。 A distraint became imminent。 Then he appealed to
his mother； who consented to let him take a mortgage on her
property； but with a great many recriminations against Emma； and
in return for her sacrifice she asked for a shawl that had
escaped the depredations of Felicite。 Charles refused to give it
her； they quarrelled。
She made the first overtures of reconciliation by offering to
have the little girl； who could help her in the house； to live
with her。 Charles consented to this； but when the time for
parting came； all his courage failed him。 Then there was a final；
complete rupture。
As his affections vanished； he clung more closely to the love of
his child。 She made him anxious； however； for she coughed
sometimes； and had red spots on her cheeks。
Opposite his house； flourishing and merry； was the family of the
chemist； with whom everything was prospering。 Napoleon helped him
in the laboratory； Athalie embroidered him a skullcap； Irma cut
out rounds of paper to cover the preserves； and Franklin recited
Pythagoras' table in a breath。 He was the happiest of fathers；
the most fortunate of men。
Not so！ A secret ambition devoured him。 Homais hankered after the
cross of the Legion of Honour。 He had plenty of claims to it。
〃First； having at the time of the cholera distinguished myself by
a boundless devotion； second； by having published； at my expense；
various works of public utility； such as〃 （and he recalled his
pamphlet entitled； 〃Cider； its manufacture and effects；〃 besides
observation on the lanigerous plant…louse； sent to the Academy；
his volume of statistics； and down to his pharmaceutical thesis）；
〃without counting that I am a member of several learned
societies〃 （he was member of a single one）。
〃In short！〃 he cried； making a pirouette； 〃if it were only for
distinguishing myself at fires！〃
Then Homais inclined towards the Government。 He secretly did the
prefect great service during the elections。 He sold himselfin a
word； prostituted himself。 He even addressed a petition to the
sovereign in which he implored him to 〃do him justice〃； he called
him 〃our good king；〃 and compared him to Henri IV。
And every morning the druggist rushed for the paper to see if his
nomination were in it。 It was never there。 At last； unable to
bear it any longer； he had a grass plot in his garden designed to
represent the Star of the Cross of Honour with two little strips
of grass running from the top to imitate the ribband。 He walked
round it with folded arms； meditating on the folly of the
Government and the ingratitude of men。
》From respect； or from a sort of sensuality that made him carry on
his investigations slowly； Charles had not yet opened the secret
drawer of a rosewood desk which Emma had generally used。 One day；
however； he sat down before it； turned the key； and pressed the
spring。 All Leon's letters were there。 There could be no doubt
this time。 He devoured them to the very last； ransacked every
corner； all the furniture； all the drawers； behind the walls；
sobbing； crying aloud； distraught； mad。 He found a box and broke
it open with a kick。 Rodolphe's portrait flew full in his face in
the midst of the overturned love…letters。
People wondered at his despondency。 He never went out； saw no
one； refused even to visit his patients。 Then they said 〃he shut
himself up to drink。〃
Sometimes； however； some curious person climbed on to the garden
hedge； and saw with amazement this long…bearded； shabbily
clothed； wild man； who wept aloud as he walked up and down。
In the evening in summer he took his little girl with him and led
her to the cemetery。 They came back at nightfall； when the only
light left in the Place was that in Binet's window。
The voluptuousness of his grief was； however； incomplete； for he
had no one near him to share it； and he paid visits to Madame
Lefrancois to be able to speak of her。
But the landlady only listened with half an ear； having troubles
like himself。 For Lheureux had at last established the 〃Favorites
du Commerce；〃 and Hivert； who enjoyed a great reputation for
doing errands； insisted on a rise of wages； and was threatening
to go over 〃to the opposition shop。〃
One day when he had gone to the market at Argueil to sell his
horsehis last resourcehe met Rodolphe。
They both turned pale when they caught sight of one another。
Rodolphe； who had only sent his card； first stammered some
apologies； then grew bolder； and even pushed his assurance （it
was in the month of August and very hot） to the length of
inviting him to have a bottle of beer at the public…house。
Leaning on the table opposite him； he chewed his cigar as he
talked； and Charles was lost in reverie at this face that she had
loved。 He seemed to see again something of her in it。 It was a
marvel to him。 He would have liked to have been this man。
The other went on talking agriculture； cattle； pasturage； filling
out with banal phrases all the gaps where an allusion might slip
in。 Charles was not listening to him； Rodolphe noticed it； and he
followed the succession of memories that crossed his face。 This
gradually grew redder； the nostrils throbbed fast； the lips
quivered。 There was at last a moment when Charles； full of a
sombre fury； fixed his eyes on Rodolphe； who； in something of
fear； stopped talking。 But soon the same look of weary lassitude
came back to his face。
〃I don't blame you；〃 he said。
Rodolphe was dumb。 And Charles； his head in his hands； went on in
a broken voice； and with the resigned accent of infinite sorrow
〃No； I don't blame you now。〃
He even added a fine phrase； the only one he ever made
〃It is the fault of fatality！〃
Rodolphe； who had managed the fatality； thought the remark very
offhand from a man in his position； comic even； and a little
mean。
The next day Charles went to sit down on the seat in the arbour。
Rays of light were straying through the trellis； the vine leaves
threw their shadows on the sand； the jasmines perfumed the air；
the heavens were blue； Spanish flies buzzed round the lilies in
bloom； and Charles was suffocating like a youth beneath the vague
love influences that filled his aching heart。
At seven o'clock little Berthe； who had not seen him all the
afternoon； went to fetch him to dinner。
His head was thrown back against the wall； his eyes closed； his
mouth open； and in his hand was a long tress of black hair。
〃Come along； papa；〃 she said。
And thinking he wanted to play； she pushed him gently。 He fell to
the ground。 He was dead。
Thirty…six hours after； at the druggist's request； Monsieur
Canivet came thither。 He made a post…mortem and found nothing。
When everything had been sold； twelve francs seventy…five
centimes remained； that served to pay for Mademoiselle Bovary's
going to her grandmother。 The good woman died the same year； old
Rouault was paralysed； and it was an aunt who took charge of her。
She is poor； and sends her to a cotton…factory to earn a living。
Since Bovary's death three doctors have followed one another at
Yonville without any success； so severely did Homais attack them。
He has an enormous practice； the authorities treat him with
consideration； and public opinion protects him。
He