Пані Боварі

Chapter 8

           HebelongedtothatgreatschoolofsurgerybegottenofBichat,tothatgeneration,nowextinct,ofphilosophicalpractitioners,who,lovingtheirartwithafanaticallove,exerciseditwithenthusiasmandwisdom.Everyoneinhishospitaltrembledwhenhewasangry;andhisstudentssoreveredhimthattheytried,assoonastheywerethemselvesinpractice,toimitatehimasmuchaspossible.Sothatinallthetownsabouttheywerefoundwearinghislongwaddedmerinoovercoatandblackfrock-coat,whosebuttonedcuffsslightlycoveredhisbrawnyhandsverybeautifulhands,andthatneverknewgloves,asthoughtobemorereadytoplungeintosuffering.Disdainfulofhonours,oftitles,andofacademies,likeoneoftheoldKnight-Hospitallers,generous,fatherlytothepoor,andpractisingvirtuewithoutbelievinginit,hewouldalmosthavepassedforasaintifthekeennessofhisintellecthadnotcausedhimtobefearedasademon.Hisglance,morepenetratingthanhisbistouries,lookedstraightintoyoursoul,anddissectedeverylieathwartallassertionsandallreticences.Andthushewentalong,fullofthatdebonairmajestythatisgivenbytheconsciousnessofgreattalent,offortune,andoffortyyearsofalabouriousandirreproachablelife.

           HefrownedassoonashehadpassedthedoorwhenhesawthecadaverousfaceofEmmastretchedoutonherbackwithhermouthopen.Then,whileapparentlylisteningtoCanivet,herubbedhisfingersupanddownbeneathhisnostrils,andrepeated

           "Good!good!"

           Buthemadeaslowgesturewithhisshoulders.

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