ll along the narrow path of his life.

He was well, looked well; his reputation was firmly established. The
country-folk loved him because he was not proud. He petted the children,
never went to the public-house, and, moreover, his morals inspired
confidence. He was specially successful with catarrhs and chest
complaints. Being much afraid of killing his patients, Charles, in fact,
prescribed only sedatives, from time to time an emetic, a footbath, or
leeches. It was not that he was afraid of surgery; he bled people
copiously like horses, and for the taking out of teeth he had the
"devil's own wrist."

Finally, to keep up with the times, he took in "La Ruche Medicale," a
new journal whose prospectus had been sent him. He read it a little
after dinner, but in about five minutes, the warmth of the room added to
the effect of his dinner sent him to sleep; and he sat there, his chin
on his two hands and his hair spreading like a mane to the foot of the
lamp. Emma looked at him and shrugged her shoulders. Why, at least, was
not her husband one of those men of taciturn passions who work at their
books all night, and at last, when about sixty, the age when rheumatism
sets in, wear a string of orders on their ill-fitting black coats? She
could have wished this name of Bovary, which was hers, had been
illustrious, to see it displayed at the booksellers', repeated in the
newspapers, known to all France. But Charles had no ambition. An Yvetot
doctor whom he had lately met in consultation had somewhat humiliated
him at the very bedside of the patient, before the assembled relatives.
When, in the evening, Charles told her this anecdote, Emma inveighed
loudly against his colleague. Charles was much touched. He kissed her
forehead with a tear in his eyes. But she was angered with shame; she
felt a wild desire to strike him; she went to open the window in the
passage and breathed in the fresh air to calm herself.

"What a man! what a man!" she said in a low voice, biting her lips.

Besides, she was becoming more irritated with him. As he grew older his
manner grew heavier; at dessert he cut the corks of the empty bottles;
after eating he cleaned his teeth with his tongue; in taking soup he
made a gurgling noise with every spoonful; and, as he was getting
fatter, the puffed-out cheeks seemed to push the eyes, always small, up
to the temples.

Sometimes Emma tucked the red borders of his under-vest into his
waistcoat, rearranged his