Atnineo’clockinthemorningshewasawakenedbythesoundofvoicesinthePlace。Therewasacrowdroundthemarketreadingalargebillfixedtooneoftheposts，andshesawJustin，whowasclimbingontoastoneandtearingdownthebill。Butatthismomenttheruralguardseizedhimbythecollar。MonsieurHomaiscameoutofhisshop，andMereLefrangois，inthemidstofthecrowd，seemedtobeperorating。
“Madame!madame!“criedFelicite，runningin，“it’sabominable!“
Andthepoorgirl，deeplymoved，handedherayellowpaperthatshehadjusttornoffthedoor。Emmareadwithaglancethatallherfurniturewasforsale。
Thentheylookedatoneanothersilently。Theservantandmistresshadnosecretonefromtheother。AtlastFelicitesighed——
“IfIwereyou，madame，IshouldgotoMonsieurGuillaumin。“
“Doyouthink——“
Andthisquestionmeanttosay——
“Youwhoknowthehousethroughtheservant，hasthemasterspokensometimesofme？“
“Yes，you’ddowelltogothere。“
Shedressed，putonherblackgown，andherhoodwithjetbeads，andthatshemightnotbeseentherewasstillacrowdonthePlace，shetookthepathbytheriver，outsidethevillage。
Shereachedthenotary’sgatequitebreathless。Theskywassombre，andalittlesnowwasfalling。Atthesoundofthebell，Theodoreinaredwaistcoatappearedonthesteps；hecametoopenthedooralmostfamiliarly，astoanacquaintance，andshowedherintothedining-room。
Alargeporcelainstovecrackledbeneathacactusthatfilledupthenicheinthewall，andinblackwoodframesagainsttheoak-stainedpaperhungSteuben’s“Esmeralda“andSchopin’s“Potiphar。“Theready-laidtable，thetwosilverchafing-dishes，thecrystaldoor-knobs，theparquetandthefurniture，allshonewithascrupulous，Englishcleanliness；thewindowswereornamentedateachcornerwithstainedglass。
“Nowthis，“thoughtEmma，“isthedining-roomIoughttohave。“
Thenotarycameinpressinghispalm-leafdressing-gowntohisbreastwithhisleftarm，whilewiththeotherhandheraisedandquicklyputonagainhisbrownvelvetcap，pretentiouslycockedontherightside，whencelookedouttheendsofthreefaircurlsdrawnfromthebackofthehead，followingthelineofhisbaldskull。
Afterhehadofferedheraseathesatdowntobreakfast，apologisingprofuselyforhisrudeness。
“Ihavecome，“shesaid，“tobegyou，sir——“
“What，madame？Iamlistening。“
Andshebeganexplainingherpositiontohim。MonsieurGuillauminknewit，beingsecretlyassociatedwiththelinendraper，fromwhomhealwaysgotcapitalfortheloansonmortgagesthathewasaskedtomake。
Soheknewandbetterthansheherselfthelongstoryofthebills，smallatfirst，bearingdifferentnamesasendorsers，madeoutatlongdates，andconstantlyreneweduptotheday，when，gatheringtogetheralltheprotestedbills，theshopkeeperhadbiddenhisfriendVincarttakeinhisownnameallthenecessaryproceedings，notwishingtopassforatigerwithhisfellow-citizens。
ShemingledherstorywithrecriminationsagainstLheureux，towhichthenotaryrepliedfromtimetotimewithsomeinsignificantword。Eatinghiscutletanddrinkinghistea，heburiedhischininhissky-bluecravat，intowhichwerethrusttwodiamondpins，heldtogetherbyasmallgoldchain；andhesmiledasingularsmile，inasugary，ambiguousfashion。Butnoticingthatherfeetweredamp，hesaid——
“Dogetclosertothestove；putyourfeetupagainsttheporcelain。“
Shewasafraidofdirtyingit。Thenotaryrepliedinagallanttone——
“Beautifulthingsspoilnothing。“
Thenshetriedtomovehim，and，growingmovedherself，shebegantellinghimaboutthepoornessofherhome，herworries，herwants。Hecouldunderstandthat；anelegantwoman!and，withoutleavingoffeating，hehadturnedcompletelyroundtowardsher，sothathiskneebrushedagainstherboot，whosesolecurledroundasitsmokedagainstthestove。
Butwhensheaskedforathousandsous，heclosedhislips，anddeclaredhewasverysorryhehadnothadthemanagementofherfortunebefore，fortherewerehundredsofwaysveryconvenient，evenforalady，ofturninghermoneytoaccount。Theymight，eitherintheturf-peatsofGrumesnilorbuilding-groundatHavre，almostwithoutrisk，haveventuredonsomeexcellentspeculations；andheletherconsumeherselfwithrageatthethoughtofthefabuloussumsthatshewouldcertainlyhavemade。
“Howwasit，“hewenton，“thatyoudidn’tcometome？“
“Ihardlyknow，“shesaid。
“Why，hey？DidIfrightenyousomuch？ItisI，onthecontrary，whooughttocomplain。Wehardlyknowoneanother；yetIamverydevotedtoyou。Youdonotdoubtthat，Ihope？“
Heheldouthishand，tookhers，covereditwithagreedykiss，thenhelditonhisknee；andheplayeddelicatelywithherfingerswhilsthemurmuredathousandblandishments。Hisinsipidvoicemurmuredlikearunningbrook；alightshoneinhiseyesthroughtheglimmeringofhisspectacles，andhishandwasadvancingupEmma’ssleevetopressherarm。Shefeltagainsthercheekhispantingbreath。Thismanoppressedherhorribly。
Shesprangupandsaidtohim——
“Sir，Iamwaiting。“
“Forwhat？“saidthenotary，whosuddenlybecameverypale。
“Thismoney。“
“But——“Then，yieldingtotheoutburstoftoopowerfuladesire，“Well，yes!“
Hedraggedhimselftowardsheronhisknees，regardlessofhisdressing-gown。
“Forpity’ssake，stay。Iloveyou!“
Heseizedherbyherwaist。MadameBovary’sfaceflushedpurple。
Sherecoiledwithaterriblelook，crying——
“Youaretakingashamelessadvantageofmydistress，sir!Iamtobepitied——nottobesold。“
Andshewentout。
Thenotaryremainedquitestupefied，hiseyesfixedonhisfineembroideredslippers。Theywerealovegift，andthesightofthematlastconsoledhim。Besides，hereflectedthatsuchanadventuremighthavecarriedhimtoofar。
“Whatawretch!whatascoundrel!whataninfamy!“shesaidtoherself，asshefledwithnervousstepsbeneaththeaspensofthepath。Thedisappointmentofherfailureincreasedtheindignationofheroutragedmodesty；itseemedtoherthatProvidencepursuedherimplacably，and，strengtheningherselfinherpride，shehadneverfeltsomuchesteemforherselfnorsomuchcontemptforothers。Aspiritofwarfaretransformedher。Shewouldhavelikedtostrikeallmen，tospitintheirfaces，tocrushthem，andshewalkedrapidlystraighton，pale，quivering，maddened，searchingtheemptyhorizonwithtear-dimmedeyes，andasitwererejoicinginthehatethatwaschokingher。
Whenshesawherhouseanumbnesscameoverher。Shecouldnotgoon；andyetshemust。Besides，whithercouldsheflee？
Felicitewaswaitingforheratthedoor。“Well？“
“No!“saidEmma。
AndforaquarterofanhourthetwoofthemwentoverthevariouspersonsinYonvillewhomightperhapsbeinclinedtohelpher。ButeachtimethatFelicitenamedsomeoneEmmareplied——
“Impossible!theywillnot!“
“Andthemaster’llsoonbein。“
“Iknowthatwellenough。Leavemealone。“
Shehadtriedeverything；therewasnothingmoretobedonenow；
andwhenCharlescameinshewouldhavetosaytohim——
“Goaway!Thiscarpetonwhichyouarewalkingisnolongerours。
Inyourownhouseyoudonotpossessachair，apin，astraw，anditisI，poorman，whohaveruinedyou。“
Thentherewouldbeagreatsob；nexthewouldweepabundantly，andatlast，thesurprisepast，hewouldforgiveher。
“Yes，“shemurmured，grindingherteeth，“hewillforgiveme，hewhowouldgiveamillionifIwouldforgivehimforhavingknownme!Never!never!“
ThisthoughtofBovary’ssuperioritytoherexasperatedher。
Then，whethersheconfessedordidnotconfess，presently，immediately，to-morrow，hewouldknowthecatastropheallthesame；soshemustwaitforthishorriblescene，andbeartheweightofhismagnanimity。ThedesiretoreturntoLheureux’sseizedher——whatwouldbetheuse？Towritetoherfather——itwastoolate；andperhaps，shebegantorepentnowthatshehadnotyieldedtothatother，whensheheardthetrotofahorseinthealley。Itwashe；hewasopeningthegate；hewaswhiterthantheplasterwall。Rushingtothestairs，sheranoutquicklytothesquare；andthewifeofthemayor，whowastalkingtoLestiboudoisinfrontofthechurch，sawhergointothetax-collector’s。