“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。