“And what should I do here gentlemen，pointing out to you the uses of agriculture？ Who supplies our wants？ Whoprovides our means of subsistence？ Is it not the agriculturist？ Theagriculturist， gentlemen， who， sowing with laborious hand the fertile furrowsof the country， brings forth the corn， which， being ground， is made into apowder by means of ingenious machinery， comes out thence under the name offlour， and from there， transported to our cities， is soon delivered at thebaker's， who makes it into food for poor and richalike. Again， is it not the agriculturist who fattens， for our clothes， hisabundant flocks in the pastures？ For how should we clothe ourselves， hownourish ourselves， without the agriculturist？ And， gentlemen， is it even necessaryto go so far for examples？ Who has not frequently reflected on all themomentous things that we get out of that modest animal， the ornament ofpoultry-yards， that provides us at once with a soft pillow for our bed， withsucculent flesh for our tables， and eggs？ But I should never end if I were toenumerate one after the other all the different products which the earth， wellcultivated， like a generous mother， lavishes upon her children. Here it is thevine， elsewhere the apple tree for cider， there colza， farther on cheeses andflax. Gentlemen， let us not forget flax， which has made such great strides oflate years， and to which I will more particularly call your attention.”
He had no need to call it， for all the mouthsof the multitude were wide open， as if to drink in his words. Tuvache by hisside listened to him with staring eyes. Monsieur Derozerays from time to timesoftly closed his eyelids， and farther on the chemist， with his son Napoldonbetween his knees， put his hand behind his ear in order not to lose a syllable.The chins of the other members of the jury went slowly up and down in theirwaistcoats in sign of approval. The firemen at the foot of the platform restedon their bayonets； and Binet， motionless， stood with out-turned elbows， the pointof his sabre in the air. Perhaps he could hear， but certainly he could seenothing， because of the visor of his helmet， that fell down on his nose. Hislieutenant， the youngest son of Monsieur Tuvache， had a bigger one， for his wasenormous， and shook on his head， and from it an end of his cotton scarf peepedout. He smiled beneath it with a perfectly infantine sweetness， and his palelittle face， whence drops were running， wore an expression of enjoyment andsleepiness.
The square as far as the houses was crowdedwith people. One saw folk leaning on their elbows at all the windows， othersstanding at doors， and Justin， in front of the chemist'sshop， seemed quite transfixed by the sight of what he was looking at. In spiteof the silence Monsieur Lieuvain's voice was lost inthe air. It reached you in fragments of phrases， and interrupted here and thereby the creaking of chairs in the crowd； then you suddenly heard the longbellowing of an ox， or else the bleating of the lambs， who answered one anotherat street corners. In fact， the cowherds and shepherds had driven their beaststhus far， and these lowed from time to time， while with their tongues they toredown some scrap of foliage that hung above their mouths.
Rodolphe had drawn nearer to Emma， and saidto her in a low voice， speaking rapidly-
“Does not this conspiracy of the world revoltyou？ Is there a single sentiment it does not condemn？ The noblest instincts，the purest sympathies are persecuted， slandered； and if at length two poorsouls do meet， all is so organised that they cannot blend together. Yet theywill make the attempt； they will flutter their wings； they will call upon eachother. Oh！ no matter. Sooner or later， in six months， ten years， they will cometogether， will love； for fate has decreed it， and they are born one for theother.”
His arms were folded across his knees， andthus lifting his face towards Emma， close by her， he looked fixedly at her. Shenoticed in his eyes small golden lines radiating from black pupils； she evensmelt the perfume of the pomade that made his hair glossy. Then a faintnesscame over her； she recalled the Viscount who had waltzed with her atVaubyessard， and his beard exhaled like this air an odour of vanilla andcitron， and mechanically she half-closed her eyes the better to breathe it in.But in making this movement， as she leant back in her chair， she saw in thedistance， right on the line of the horizon， the old diligence， the “Hirondelle，” that was slowly descending thehill of Leux， dragging after it a long trail of dust. It was in this yellowcarriage that Léon had so often come back to her， andby this route down there that he had gone for ever. She fancied she saw himopposite at his windows； then all grew confused； clouds gathered； it seemed toher that she was again turning in the waltz under the light of the lustres onthe arm of the Viscount， and that Léon was not faraway， that he was coming； and yet all the time she was conscious of the scentof Rodolphe's head by her side. This sweetness of sensationpierced through her old desires， and these， like grains of sand under a gust ofwind， eddied to and fro in the subtle breath of the perfume which suffused hersoul. She opened wide her nostrils several times to drink in the freshness ofthe ivy round the capitals. She took off her gloves， she wiped her hands， thenfanned her face with her handkerchief， while athwart the throbbing of hertemples she heard the murmur of the crowd and the voice of the councillorintoning his phrases. He said-
Continue， persevere； listen neither to thesuggestions of routine， nor to the over-hasty councils of a rash empiricism. “Apply yourselves， above all， to the amelioration of the soil， togood manures， to the development of the equine， bovine， ovine， and porcineraces. Let these shows be to you pacific arenas， where the victor in leaving itwill hold forth a hand to the vanquished， and will fraternise with him in thehope of better success. And you， aged servants， humble domestics， whose hardlabour no Government up to this day has taken into consideration， come hitherto receive the reward of your silent virtues， and be assured that the statehenceforward has its eye upon you； that it encourages you， protects you； thatit will accede to your just demands， and alleviate as much as in it lies theburden of your painful sacrifices.”
Monsieur Lieuvain then sat down； MonsieurDerozerays got up， beginning another speech. His was not perhaps so florid asthat of the councillor， but it recommended itself by a more direct style， thatis to say， by more special knowledge and more elevated considerations. Thus thepraise of the Government took up less space in it； religion and agriculturemore. He showed in it the relations of these two， and how they had alwayscontributed to civilisation. Rodolphe with Madame Bovary was talking dreams，presentiments， magnetism. Going back to the cradle of society， the oratorpainted those fierce times when men lived on acorns in the heart of woods. Thenthey had left offthe skins of beasts， had put on cloth， tilled the soil，planted the vine. Was this a good， and in this discovery was there not more ofinjury than of gain？ Monsieur Derozerays set himself this problem. Frommagnetism little by little Rodolphe had come to affinities， and while the presidentwas citing Cincinnatus and his plough， Diocletian， planting his cabbages， andthe Emperors of China inaugurating the year by the sowing of seed， the youngman was explaining to the young woman that these irresistible attractions findtheir cause in some previous state of existence.
“Thus we，” he said， “why did we come to know one another？ What chance willed it？ It wasbecause across the infinite， like two streams that flow but to unite； ourspecial bents of mind had driven us towards each other.”
And he seized her hand； she did not withdrawit.
“For good farming generally！” cried the president.
“Just now， for example， when I went to yourhouse.”
“To Monsieur Bizat of Quincampoix.”
“Did I know I should accompany you？”
“Seventy francs.”
“A hundred times I wished to go； and Ifollowed you-I remained.”
“Manures！”
“And I shall remain to-night， to-morrow， allother days， all my life！”
“To Monsieur Caron ofArgueil， a gold medal！”
“For I have never in the society of any otherperson found so complete a charm.”
“To Monsieur Bain of Givry-Saint-Martin.”
“And I shall carry away with me theremembrance of you.”
“For a merino ram！”
“But you will forget me； I shall pass awaylike a shadow.”
“To Monsieur Belot of Notre-Dame.”
“Oh， no！ I shall be something in your thought，in your life， shall I not？”
“Porcine race； prizes-equal， to Messrs. Léherissé and Cullembourg， sixty franes！”
Rodolphe was pressing her hand， and he feltit all warm and quivering like a captive dove that wants to fly away； but，whether she was trying to take it away or whether she was answering hispressure； she made a movement with her fingers. He exclaimed-
“Oh， I thank you！ You do not repulse me！ Youare good！ You understand that I am yours！ Let me look at you； let mecontemplate you！” A gust of wind that blew in at thewindow ruffled the cloth on the table， and in the square below all the greatcaps of the peasant women were uplifted by it like the wings of whitebutterflies fluttering.
“Use of oil-cakes，”continued the president. He was hurrying on： “Flemishmanure-flax-growing-drainage-long leases-domestic service.”
Rodolphe was no longer speaking. They lookedat one another. A supreme desire made their dry lips tremble， and wearily，without an effort， their fingers intertwined.
“Catherine Nicaise élizabeth Leroux， ofSassetot-la-Guerriére， for fifty-four years of serviceat the same farm， a silver medal-value， twenty-five francs！”
“Where is Catherine Leroux？” repeated the councillor.
She did not present herself， and one couldhear voices whispering-
“Go up！”
“Don't be afraid！”
“Oh， how stupid she is！”
“Well， is she there？”cried Tuvache.
“Yes； here she is.”
“Then let her come up！”
Then there came forward on the platform alittle old woman with timid bearing， who seemed to shrink within her poor clothes.On her feet she wore heavy wooden clogs， and from her hips hung a large blueapron. Her pale face framed in a borderless cap was more wrinkled than awithered russet apple. And from the sleeves of her red jacket looked out twolarge hands with knotty joints， the dust of barns， the potash of washing thegrease of wools had so encrusted， roughened， hardened these that they seemeddirty， although they had been rinsed in clear water； and by dint of longservice they remained half open， as if to bear humble witness for themselves ofso much suffering endured. Something of monastic rigidity dignified her face.Nothing of sadness or of emotion weakened that pale look. In her constantliving with animals she had caught their dumbness and their calm. It was thefirst time that she found herself in the midst of so large a company， andinwardly scared by the flags， the drums， the gentlemen in frock-coats， and theorder of the councillor， she stood motionless， not knowing whether to advanceor run away， nor why the crowd was pushing her and the jury were smiling ather. Thus stood before these radiant bourgeois this half-century of servitude.
“Approach， venerable Catherine Nicaise élizabeth Leroux！” said the councillor， who had takenthe list of prize-winners from the president； and， looking at the piece ofpaper and the old woman by turns， he repeated in a fatherly tone：
“Approach！ approach！”
“Are you deaf？” saidTuvache， fidgeting in his armchair； and he began shouting in her ear， “Fifty-four years of service. A silver medal！ Twenty-five francs！ Foryou！”
Then， when she had her medal， she looked atit， and a smile of beatitude spread over her face； and as she walked away theycould hear her muttering
“I'll give it to ourcuré up home， to say some masses for me！”
“What fanaticism！”exclaimed the chemist， leaning across to the notary.
The meeting was over， the crowd dispersed，and now that the speeches had been read， each one fell back into his placeagain， and everything into the old grooves； the masters bullied the servants，and these struck the animals， indolent victors， going back to the stalls， agreen-crown on their horns.
The National Guards， however， had gone up tothe first floor of the town hall with buns spitted on their bayonets， and thedrummer of the battalion carried a basket with bottles. Madame Bovary tookRodolphe's arm； he saw her home； they separated at herdoor； then he walked about alone in the meadow while he waited for the time ofthe banquet.
The feast was long， noisy， ill served； theguests were so crowded that they could hardly move their elbows； and the narrowplanks used for forms almost broke down under their weight. They ate hugely.Each one stuffed himself on his own account. Sweat stood on every brow， and awhitish steam， like the vapour of a stream on an autumn morning， floated abovethe table between the hanging lamps. Rodolphe， leaning against the calico ofthe tent was thinking so earnestly of Emma that he heard nothing. Behind him onthe grass the servants were piling up the dirty plates， his neighbours weretalking； he did not answer them； they filled his glass， and there was silencein his thoughts in spite of the growing noise. He was dreaming of what she hadsaid， of the line of her lips； her face， as in a magic mirror， shone on theplates of the shakos， the folds of her gown fell along the walls， and days oflove unrolled to all infinity before him in the vistas of the future.
He saw her again in the evening during thefireworks， but she was with her husband， Madame Homais， and the druggist， whowas worrying about the danger of stray rockets， and every moment he left thecompany to go and give some advice to Binet.
The pyrotechnic pieces sent to MonsieurTuvache had， through an excess of caution， been shut up in his cellar， and sothe damp powder would not light， and the principal set piece， that was torepresent a dragon biting his tail， failed completely. Now and then a meagreRoman-candle went off； then the gaping crowd sent up a shout that mingled withthe cry of the women， whose waists were being squeezed in the darkness. Emmasilently nestled against Charles's shoulder； then，raising her chin， she watched the luminous rays of the rockets against the darksky. Rodolphe gazed at her in the light of the burning lanterns.
They went out one by one. The stars shoneout. A few crops of rain began to fall. She knotted her fichu round her barehead.
At this moment the councillor's carriage came out from the inn.His coachman， who was drunk，suddenly dozed off， and one could see from the distance， above the hood，between the two lanterns， the mass of his body， that swayed from right to leftwith the giving of the traces.
“Truly，” said thedruggist， “one ought to proceed most rigorously againstdrunkenness！ I should like to see written up weekly at the door of the townhall on a board ad hoc the names of all those who during the week gotintoxicated on alcohol. Besides， with regard to statistics， one would thushave， as it were， public records that one could refer to in case of need. Butexcuse me！” And he once more ran off to the captain.The latter was going back to see his lathe again.
“Perhaps you would not do ill，” Homais said to him， “to send one of yourmen， or to go yourself-”
“Leave me alone！”answered the tax-collector. “It's all right！”
“Do not be uneasy，”said the druggist， when he returned to his friends. “MonsieurBinet has assured me that all precautions have been taken. No sparks havefallen； the pumps are full. Let us go to rest.”
“Mafoi！ I want it，”said Madame Homais， yawning at large. “But never mind；we've had a beautiful day for our fête.”
Rodolphe repeated in a low voice， and with atender look， “Oh， yes！ very beautiful！”
And having bowed to one another， theyseparated.
Two days later， in the “Final de Rouen，” there was a long article onthe show. Homais had composed it with verve the very next morning.
“Why these festoons， these flowers， thesegarlands？ Whither hurries this crowd like the waves of a furious sea under thetorrents of a tropical sun pouring its heat upon our heads？”
Then he spoke of the condition of thepeasants. Certainly the Government was doing much， but not enough. “Courage！” he cried to it； “a thousand reforms are indispensable； let us accomplish them！” Then touching on the entry of the councillor， he did not forget “the martial air of our militia；” nor “our most merry village maidens；” nor the “bald-headed old men like patriarchs who were there， and of whomsome， the remnants of our phalanxes， still felt their hearts beat at the manlysound of the drums.” He cited himself，among the firstof the members of the jury， and he even called attention in a note to the factthat Monsieur Homais， chemist， had sent a memoir on cider to the agriculturalsociety. When he came to the distribution of the prizes， he painted the joy ofthe prize-winners in dithyrambic strophes. “The fatherembraced the son， the brother the brother， the husband his consort. More thanone showed his humble medal with pride； and no doubt when he got home to hisgood housewife， he hung it up weeping on the modest walls of his cot.
“About six o'clock abanquet prepared in the meadow of Monsieur Leigeard brought together theprincipal personages of the fete. The greatest cordiality reigned here. Diverstoasts were proposed： Monsieur Lieuvain， the King； Monsieur Tuvache， thePrefect； Monsieur Derozerays， Agriculture； Monsieur Homais， Industry and theFine Arts， those twin sisters； Monsieur Leplichey， Progress. In the eveningsome brilliant fireworks on a sudden illumined the air. One would have calledit a veritable kaleidoscope， a real operatic scene； and for a moment our littlelocality might have thought itself transported into the midst of a dream of theThousand and One Nights.
“Let us state that no untoward eventdisturbed this family meeting.” And he added： “Only the absence of the clergy was remarked. No doubt the priestsunderstand progress in another fashion. Just as you please， messieurs thefollowers of Loyola！”
Chapter 9
Six weeks passed. Rodolphe did not comeagain. At last one evening he appeared.
The day after the show he had said tohimself：
“We mustn't go backtoo soon； that would be a mistake.”
And at the end of a week he had gone offhunting. After the hunting he had thought it was too late， and then he reasonedthus-
“If from the first day she loved me， she mustfrom impatience to see me again love me more. Let's goon with it！”
And he knew that his calculation had beenright when， on entering the room， he saw Emma turn pale.
She was alone. The day was drawing in. Thesmall muslin curtain along the windows deepened the twilight， and the gildingof the barometer， on which the rays of the sun fell， shone in the looking-glassbetween the meshes of the coral.
Rodolphe remained standing， and Emma hardlyanswered his first conventional phrases.
“I，” he said， “have been busy. I have been ill.”
“Seriously？” shecried.
“Well，” saidRodolphe， sitting down at her side on a footstool， “no；it was because I did not want to come back.”
“Why？”
“Can you not guess？”
He looked at her again， but so hard that shelowered her head， blushing. He went on-
“Emma！”
“Sir，” she said，drawing back a little.
“Ah！ you see，”replied he in a melancholy voice， “that I was right notto come back； for this name， this name that fills my whole soul， and thatescaped me， you forbid me to use！ Madame Bovary！ why all the world calls youthus！ Besides， it is not your name； it is the name of another！” He repeated， “of another！” And he hid his face in his hands. “Yes， Ithink of you constantly. The memory of you drives me to despair. Ah！ forgiveme！ I will leave you！ Farewell！ I will no far away， so far that you will neverhear of me again； and yet-today-I know not what force impelled me towards you.For one does not struggle against Heaven； one cannot resist the smile ofangels； one is carried away by that which is beautiful， charming， adorable.”
It was the first time that Emma had heardsuch words spoken to herself， and her pride， like one who reposes bathed inwarmth， expanded softly and fully at this glowing language.
“But if I did not come，” he continued， “if I could not see you， atleast I have gazed long on all that surrounds you. At night-every night-Iarose； I came hither； I watched your house， its glimmering in the moon， thetrees in the garden swaying before your window， and the little lamp， a gleamshining through the window-panes in the darkness. Ah！ you never knew thatthere， so near you， so far from you， was a poor wretch！”
She turned towards him with a sob.
“Oh， you are good！”she said.
“No， I love you， that is all！ You do notdoubt that！ Tell me-one word-only one word！”
And Rodolphe imperceptibly glided from thefootstool to the ground； but a sound of wooden shoes was heard in the kitchen，and he noticed the door of the room was not closed.
“How kind it would be of you，” he went on， rising， “if you would humour awhim of mine.” It was to go over her house； he wantedto know it； and Madame Bovary seeing no objection to this， they both rose， whenCharles came in.
“Good morning， doctor，” Rodolphe said to him.
The doctor， flattered at this unexpectedtitle， launched out into obsequious phrases. Of this the other took advantageto pull himself together a little.
“Madame was speaking to me，” he then said， “about her health.”
Charles interrupted him； he had indeed athousand anxieties； his wife's palpitations of theheart were beginning again. Then Rodolphe asked if riding would not be good.
“Certainly！ excellent！ just the thing！ There's an idea！ You ought to follow it up.”
And as she objected that she had no horse，Monsieur Rodolphe offered one. She refused his offer； he did not insist. Thento explain his visit he said that his ploughman， the man of the blood-letting，still suffered from giddiness.
“I'll call around，” said Bovary.
“No， no！ I'll sendhim to you； we'll come； that will be more convenientfor you.”
“Ah！ very good！ I thank you.”
And as soon as they were alone， “Why don't you accept Monsieur Boulanger's kind offer？”
She assumed a sulky air， invented a thousandexcuses， and finally declared that perhaps it would look odd.
“Well， what the deuce do I care for that？” said Charles， making a pirouette. “Healthbefore everything！ You are wrong.”
“And how do you think I can ride when I haven't got a habit？”
“You must order one，”he answered.
The riding-habit decided her.
When the habit was ready， Charles wrote toMonsieur Boulanger that his wife was at his command， and that they counted onhis good-nature.
The next day at noon Rodolphe appeared atCharles's door with two saddle-horses. One had pinkrosettes at his ears and a deerskin side-saddle.
Rodolphe had put on high soft boots， sayingto himself that no doubt she had never seen anything like them. In fact， Emmawas charmed with his appearance as he stood on the landing in his great velvetcoat and white corduroy breeches. She was ready； she was waiting for him.
Justin escaped from the chemist's to see her start， and the chemist also came out. He was givingMonsieur Boulanger a little good advice.
“An accident happens so easily. Be careful！Your horses perhaps are mettlesome.”
She heard a noise above her； it was Fé1icité drumming on the windowpanes to amuselittle Berthe. The child blew her a kiss； her mother answered with a wave ofher whip.
“A pleasant rideF'cried Monsieur Homais. “Prudence！ above all， prudence！” And he flourished his newspaper as he saw them disappear.