So Charles set to work again and crammed forhis examination， ceaselessly learning all the old questions by heart. He passedpretty well. What a happy day for his mother！ They gave a grand dinner.
Where should he go to practise？ To Tostes，where there was only one old doctor. For a long time Madame Bovary had been onthe look-out for his death， and the old fellow had barely been packed off whenCharles was installed， opposite his place， as his successor.
But it was not everything to have brought upa son， to have had him taught medicine， and discovered Tostes， where he couldpractise it； he must have a wife. She found him one-the widow of a bailiff atDieppe-who was forty-five and had an income of twelve hundred francs. Thoughshe was ugly， as dry as a bone， her face with as many pimples as the spring hasbuds， Madame Dubuc had no lack of suitors. To attain her ends Madame Bovary hadto oust them all， and she even succeeded in very cleverly baffling theintrigues of a port-butcher backed up by the priests.
Charles had seen in marriage the advent of aneasier life， thinking he would be more free to do as he liked with himself andhis money. But his wife was master； he had to say this and not say that incompany， to fast every Friday， dress as she liked， harass at her bidding thosepatients who did not pay. She opened his letter， watched his comings andgoings， and listened at the partition-wall when women came to consult him inhis surgery.
She must have her chocolate every morning，attentions without end. She constantly complained of her nerves， her chest， andher liver. The noise of footsteps made her ill； when people left her， solitudebecame odious to her； if they came back， it was doubtless to see her die. WhenCharles returned in the evening， she stretched forth two long thin arms frombeneath the sheets， put them round his neck， and having made him sit down onthe edge of the bed， began to talk to him of her troubles： he was neglectingher， he loved another. She had been warned she would be unhappy； and she endedby asking him for a dose of medicine and a little more love.
Chapter 2
One night towards eleven o'clock they were awakened by the noise of a horse pulling up outsidetheir door. The servant opened the garret-window and parleyed for some timewith a man in the street below. He came for the doctor， had a letter for him.Natasie came downstairs shivering and undid the bars and bolts one after theother. The man left his horse， and， following the servant， suddenly came inbehind her. He pulled out from his wool cap with grey top-knots a letterwrapped up in a rag and presented it gingerly to Charles， who rested on hiselbow on the pillow to read it. Natasie， standing near the bed， held the light.Madame in modesty had turned to the wall and showed only her back.
This letter， sealed with a small seal in bluewax， begged Monsieur Bovary to come immediately to the farm of the Bertaux toset a broken leg. Now from Tostes to the Bertaux was a good eighteen milesacross country by way of Longueville and Saint-Victor. It was a dark night；Madame Bovary junior was afraid of accidents for her husband. So it was decidedthe stable-boy should go on first； Charles would start three hours later whenthe moon rose. A boy was to be sent to meet him， and show him the way to thefarm， and open the gates for him.
Towards four o'clockin the morning， Charles， well wrapped up in his cloak， set out for the Bertaux.Still sleepy from the warmth of his bed， he let himself be lulled by the quiettrot of his horse. When it stopped of its own accord in front of those holessurrounded with thorns that are dug on the margin of furrows， Charles awokewith a start， suddenly remembered the broken leg， and tried to call to mind allthe fractures he knew. The rain had stopped， day was breaking， and on thebranches of the leafless trees birds roosted motionless， their little feathersbristling in the cold morning wind. The fiat country stretched as far as eyecould see， and the tufts of trees round the farms at long intervals seemed likedark violet stains on the cast grey surface， that on the horizon faded into thegloom of the sky.
Charles from time to time opened his eyes，his mind grew weary， and， sleep coming upon him， he soon fell into a dozewherein， his recent sensations blending with memories， he became conscious of adouble self， at once student and married man， lying in his bed as but now， andcrossing the operation theatre as of old. The warm smell of poultices mingledin his brain with the fresh odour of dew； he heard the iron rings rattlingalong the curtain-rods of the beds and saw his wife sleeping. As he passedVassonville he came upon a boy sitting on the grass at the edge of a ditch.
“Are you the doctor？”asked the child.
And on Charles'sanswer he took his wooden shoes in his hands and ran on in front of him.
The general practitioner， riding along，gathered from his guide's talk that Monsieur Rouaultmust be one of the well-to-do farmers. He had broken his leg the evening beforeon his way home from a Twelfth-night feast at a neighbour's. His wife had been dead for two years. There was with him only hisdaughter， who helped him to keep house.
The ruts were becoming deeper； they wereapproaching the Bertaux.
The little lad， slipping through a hole inthe hedge， disappeared； then he came back to the end of a courtyard to open thegate. The horse slipped on the wet grass； Charles had to stoop to pass underthe branches. The watchdogs in their kennels barked， dragging at their chains.As he entered the Bertaux， the horse took fright and stumbled.
It was a substantial-looking farm. In thestables， over the top of the open doors， one could see great cart-horsesquietly feeding from new racks. Right along the outbuildings extended a largedunghill， from which manure liquid oozed， while amidst fowls and turkeys， fiveor six peacocks， a luxury in Chauchois farmyards， were foraging on the top ofit. The sheepfold was long， the barn high， with walls smooth as your hand.Under the cart-shed were two large carts and four ploughs， with their whips，shafts and harnesses complete， whose fleeces of blue wool were getting soiledby the fine dust that fell from the granaries. The courtyard sloped upwards，planted with trees set out symmetrically， and the chattering noise of a flockof geese was heard near the pond.
A young woman in a blue merino dress withthree flounces came to the threshold of the door to receive Monsieur Bovary，whom she led to the kitchen， where a large fire was blazing. The servant's breakfast was boiling beside it in small pots of all sizes. Somedamp clothes were drying inside the chimney-comer. The shovel， tongs， and thenozzle of the bellows， all of colossal size， shone like polished steel， whilealong the walls hung many pots and pans in which the clear flame of the hearth，mingling with the first rays of the sun coming in through the window， wasmirrored fitfully.
Charles went up the first floor to see thepatient. He found him in his bed， sweating under his bed-clothes， having thrownhis cotton nightcap right away from him. He was a fat little man of fifty， withwhite skin and blue eyes， the forepart of his head bald， and he wore earrings.By his side on a chair stood a large decanter of brandy， whence he pouredhimself a little from time to time to keep up his spirits； but as soon as hecaught sight of the doctor his elation subsided， and instead of swearing， as hehad been doing for the last twelve hours， began to groan feebly.