Il souffla bien fort ce jour là
Et le jupon court s'envola!
She fell back on the mattress in a convulsion. All in the room drew close. She was no more.
WHEN a person dies the event is always followed by, as it were, a few moments of stupefaction. It is so hard to realize the sudden coming of a state of nothingness, to resign oneself to its actual happening.
When he saw, however, that his wife lay there motionless, Charles flung himself upon her, crying:
Homais and Canivet led him from the room.
'You must control yourself.'
He struggled to throw off their restraining hands. 'I will be sensible,' he said, 'I won't do any harm. But let me go! I want to see her, she is my wife!'
He burst into tears.
'Weep on,' said the chemist. 'Let nature have her way. You will feel the better for it.'
Charles had become as weak as a child. He let them take him downstairs into the dining-room. Shortly afterwards, Monsieur Homais went home.
While crossing the square, he was accosted by the blind man who, having dragged himself all the way to Yonville in the hope of getting the promised antiphlogistic ointment, was asking everyone he met where the apothecary lived.
'As though I hadn't enough on my hands as it is! I can't attend to you now: come back another day!'
He hurried into his shop.
He had two letters to write, a sedative to make up for Bovary, some plausible story to invent which he could embody in an article for the "Fanal" in such a way as to conceal the fact of the poisoning, to say nothing of dealing with all the people who were waiting for him to give them the latest news. As soon as he had explained to the good folk of Yonville that Madame Bovary had used arsenic in mistake for