; it seemed strange to him to see this
beautiful woman in her nankeen dress in the midst of all this poverty.
Madame Bovary reddened, he turned away, thinking perhaps there had been
an impertinent look in his eyes. Then she put back the baby girl, who
had just vomited over her frock. The nurse at once came to dry her,
protesting that it wouldn't show.

"She gives me other doses," she said; "I am always a-washing of her. If
you would have the goodness to order Camus, the grocer, to let me have a
little soap; it would really be more convenient for you, as I needn't
trouble you then."

"Very well! very well!" said Emma. "Good morning, Madame Rollet," and
she went out, wiping her shoes at the door.

The good woman accompanied her to the end of the garden, talking all the
time of the trouble she had getting up of nights.

"I'm that worn out sometimes as I drop asleep on my chair. I'm sure you
might at least give me just a pound of ground coffee; that'd last me a
month, and I'd take it of a morning with some milk."

After submitting to her thanks, Madame Bovary left. She had gone a
little way down the path when, at the sound of wooden shoes, she turned
round. It was the nurse.

"What is it?"

Then the peasant woman, taking her aside behind an elm tree, began
talking to her of her husband, who with his trade and six francs a year
that the captain--

"Oh, be quick!" said Emma.

"Well," the nurse went on, heaving sighs between each word, "I'm afraid
he'll be put out seeing me have coffee alone; you know men--"

"But you are to have some," Emma repeated; "I will give you some. You
bother me!"

"Oh, dear! my poor, dear lady! you see, in consequence of his wounds he
has terrible cramps in the chest. He even says that cider weakens him."

"Do make haste, Mere Rollet!"

"Well," the latter continued, making a curtsey, "if it weren't asking
too much," and she curtsied once more, "if you would"--and her eyes
begged--"a jar of brandy," she said at last, "and I'd rub your little
one's feet with it; they're as tender as one's tongue."

Once rid of the nurse, Emma again took Monsieur Leon's arm. She walked
fast for some time, then more slowly, and looking straight in front of
her, her eyes rested on the shoulder of the young man, whose frock-coat
had a black-velvet collar. His brown hair fell over it, straight and
carefully arranged. She noticed his nails, which were longer than one
wore them at Yonville. It was one of the