an end a quarter of an hour since at
Marescot's office. She wished to have for her marriage portion the
Ecalles meadow, which he could not dispose of, having partly retained
it, like the farm, with the money of another person.

"Exactly," said Pecuchet.

"I had had the folly to promise her any favour she asked--and this was
what she was after! I attribute her obstinacy to this; for if she loved
me she would have given way to me."

The widow, on the contrary, had attacked him in insulting language, and
referred disparagingly to his physique, his big paunch.

"My paunch! Just imagine for a moment!"

Meanwhile Pecuchet had risen several times, and seemed to be in pain.

Bouvard asked him what was the matter, and thereupon Pecuchet, having
first taken the precaution to shut the door, explained in a hesitating
manner that he was affected with a certain disease.

"What! You?"

"I--myself."

"Oh, my poor fellow! And who is the cause of this?"

Pecuchet became redder than before, and said in a still lower tone:

"It can be only Melie."

Bouvard remained stupefied.

The first thing to do was to send the young woman away.

She protested with an air of candour.

Pecuchet's case was, however, serious; but he was ashamed to consult a
physician.

Bouvard thought of applying to Barberou.

They gave him particulars about the matter, in order that he might
communicate with a doctor who would deal with the case by
correspondence.

Barberou set to work with zeal, believing it was Bouvard's own case, and
calling him an old dotard, even though he congratulated him about it.

"At my age!" said Pecuchet. "Is it not a melancholy thing? But why did
she do this?"

"You pleased her."

"She ought to have given me warning."

"Does passion reason?" And Bouvard renewed his complaints about Madame
Bordin.

Often had he surprised her before the Ecalles, in Marescot's company,
having a gossip with Germaine. So many manoeuvres for a little bit of
land!

"She is avaricious! That's the explanation."

So they ruminated over their disappointments by the fireside in the
breakfast parlour, Pecuchet swallowing his medicines and Bouvard puffing
at his pipe; and they began a discussion about women.

"Strange want!--or is it a want?" "They drive men to crime--to heroism
as well as to brutishness." "Hell under a petticoat," "paradise in a
kiss," "the turtle's warbling," "the serpent's windings," "the cat's
claws," "the sea's tre