Госпожа Бовари

Chapter 7

           Inthetwilightoftheworkshopthewhitedustwasflyingfromhistoolslikeashowerofsparksunderthehoofsofagallopinghorse;thetwowheelswereturning,droning;Binetsmiled,hischinlowered,hisnostrilsdistended,and,inaword,seemedlostinoneofthosecompletehappinessesthat,nodoubt,belongonlytocommonplaceoccupations,whichamusethemindwithfaciledifficulties,andsatisfybyarealisationofthatbeyondwhichsuchmindshavenotadream.

           "Ah!theresheis!"exclaimedMadameTuvache.

           Butitwasimpossiblebecauseofthelathetohearwhatshewassaying.

           Atlasttheseladiesthoughttheymadeouttheword"francs,"andMadameTuvachewhisperedinalowvoice

           "Sheisbegginghimtogivehertimeforpayinghertaxes."

           "Apparently!"repliedtheother.

           Theysawherwalkingupanddown,examiningthenapkin-rings,thecandlesticks,thebanisterrailsagainstthewalls,whileBinetstrokedhisbeardwithsatisfaction.

           "Doyouthinkshewantstoordersomethingofhim?"saidMadameTuvache.

           "Why,hedoesn’tsellanything,"objectedherneighbour.

           Thetax-collectorseemedtobelisteningwithwide-openeyes,asifhedidnotunderstand.Shewentoninatender,suppliantmanner.Shecamenearertohim,herbreastheaving;theynolongerspoke.

           "Isshemakinghimadvances?"saidMadameTuvache.Binetwasscarlettohisveryears.Shetookholdofhishands.

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