All these people looked alike.  Their fair flabby faces, somewhat tanned by the sun, were the colour of sweet cider, and their puffy whiskers emerged from stiff collars, kept up by white cravats with broad bows.  All the waist-coats were of velvet, double-breasted; all the watches had, at the end of a long ribbon, an oval cornelian seal; everyone rested his two hands on his thighs, carefully stretching the stride of their trousers, whose unsponged glossy cloth shone more brilliantly than the leather of their heavy boots.

The ladies of the company stood at the back under the vestibule between the pillars while the common herd was opposite, standing up or sitting on chairs.  As a matter of fact, Lestiboudois had brought thither all those that he had moved from the field, and he even kept running back every minute to fetch others from the church.  He caused such confusion with this piece of business that one had great difficulty in getting to the small steps of the platform.

“I think,” said Monsieur Lheureux to the chemist, who was passing to his place, “that they ought to have put up two Venetian masts with something rather severe and rich for ornaments; it would have been a very pretty effect.”

“To be sure,” replied Homais; “but what can you expect?  The mayor took everything on his own shoulders.  He hasn’t much taste.  Poor Tuvache! and he is even completely destitute of what is called the genius of art.”

Rodolphe, meanwhile, with Madame Bovary, had gone up to the first floor of the town hall, to the “council-room,” and, as it was empty, he declared that they could enjoy the sight there more comfortably.  He fetched three stools from the round table under the bust of the monarch, and having carried them to one of the windows, they sat down by each other.

There was commotion on the platform, long whisperings, much parleying.  At last the councillor got up.  They knew now that his name was Lieuvain, and in the crowd the name was passed from one to the other.  After he had collated a few pages, and bent over them to see better, he began—­

“Gentlemen!  May I be permitted first of all (before addressing you on the object of our meeting to-day, and this sentiment will, I am sure, be shared by you all), may I be permitted, I say, to pay a tribute to the higher administration, to the government to the monarch, gentle men, our sovereign, to that beloved king, to whom no branch of public or private prosperity is a matter of indifference, and who directs with a hand at once so firm and wise the chariot of the state amid the incessant perils of a stormy sea, knowing, moreover, how to make peace respected as well as war, industry, commerce, agriculture, and the fine arts?”

“I ought,” said Rodolphe, “to get back a little further.”

“Why?” said Emma.

But at this moment the voice of the councillor rose to an extraordinary pitch.  He declaimed—­