And thereupon, telling him the story of the distraint, she explained her distress to him; for Charles knew nothing of it; her mother-in-law detested her; old Rouault could do nothing; but he, Leon, he would set about finding this indispensable sum.

“How on earth can I?”

“What a coward you are!” she cried.

Then he said stupidly, “You are exaggerating the difficulty.  Perhaps, with a thousand crowns or so the fellow could be stopped.”

All the greater reason to try and do something; it was impossible that they could not find three thousand francs.  Besides, Leon, could be security instead of her.

“Go, try, try!  I will love you so!”

He went out, and came back at the end of an hour, saying, with solemn face—­

“I have been to three people with no success.”

Then they remained sitting face to face at the two chimney corners, motionless, in silence.  Emma shrugged her shoulders as she stamped her feet.  He heard her murmuring—­

“If I were in your place I should soon get some.”

“But where?”

“At your office.”  And she looked at him.

An infernal boldness looked out from her burning eyes, and their lids drew close together with a lascivious and encouraging look, so that the young man felt himself growing weak beneath the mute will of this woman who was urging him to a crime.  Then he was afraid, and to avoid any explanation he smote his forehead, crying—­

“Morel is to come back to-night; he will not refuse me, I hope” (this was one of his friends, the son of a very rich merchant); “and I will bring it you to-morrow,” he added.

Emma did not seem to welcome this hope with all the joy he had expected.  Did she suspect the lie?  He went on, blushing—­

“However, if you don’t see me by three o’clock do not wait for me, my darling.  I must be off now; forgive me!  Goodbye!”

He pressed her hand, but it felt quite lifeless.  Emma had no strength left for any sentiment.

Four o’clock struck, and she rose to return to Yonville, mechanically obeying the force of old habits.

The weather was fine.  It was one of those March days, clear and sharp, when the sun shines in a perfectly white sky.  The Rouen folk, in Sunday-clothes, were walking about with happy looks.  She reached the Place du Parvis.  People were coming out after vespers; the crowd flowed out through the three doors like a stream through the three arches of a bridge, and in the middle one, more motionless than a rock, stood the beadle.

Then she remembered the day when, all anxious and full of hope, she had entered beneath this large nave, that had opened out before her, less profound than her love; and she walked on weeping beneath her veil, giddy, staggering, almost fainting.

“Take care!” cried a voice issuing from the gate of a courtyard that was thrown open.