Emma waited for Leon three quarters of an hour. At last she ran to his office; and, lost in all sorts of conjectures, accusing him of indifference, and reproaching herself for her weakness, she spent the afternoon, her face pressed against the window panes.

At two o'clock they were still at a table opposite each other. The large room was emptying; the stove pipe, in the shape of a palm tree, spread its gilt leaves over the white ceiling, and near them, outside the window, in the bright sunshine, a little fountain gurgled in a white basin, where; in the midst of watercress and asparagus, three torpid lobsters stretched across to some quails that lay heaped up in a pile on their sides.

Homais was enjoying himself. Although he was even more intoxicated with the luxury than the rich fare, the Pommard wine all the same rather excited his faculties; and when the omelette au rhum appeared, he began propounding immoral theories about women. What seduced him above all else was chic. He admired an elegant toilette in a well furnished apartment, and as to bodily qualities, he didn't dislike a young girl.

In rum.

Leon watched the clock in despair. The druggist went on drinking, eating, and talking.

"You must be very lonely," he said suddenly, "here at Rouen. To be sure your lady love doesn't live far away."

And the other blushed

"Come now, be frank. Can you deny that at Yonville "

The young man stammered something.

"At Madame Bovary's, you're not making love to "

"To whom?"

"The servant!"