Madame Bovary Page #4

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- Yes.|- Won't you sit down, please?

- Where is Dr. Bovary?|- Why, I believe he has a patient.

- Did you want to see him?|- No.

It's always such a pleasure to see you,|Madame Bovary. You're so beautiful.

Leon sees you so often,|and I get so little chance.

Leon is very sensitive to beauty.|He is a very susceptible boy.

- Mother.|- Yes?

Would you like some chocolate?|I'll ring for Felicite.

No, I can only stay a moment.

- How is your husband, Madame Bovary?|- Oh, he's well. Very well. Busy, of course.

Yes, of course. A nice man.

Not brilliant, but then if he were brilliant,|he would leave for Paris.

Then who would stay in Yonville|and look after simple people like me?

That's quite right, Madame Dupuis.

I'm happy you understand your husband|so well, Madame Bovary.

- Leon is leaving for Paris. Yes.|- Mother.

An old friend of the family|will find him a position,

perhaps in Paris, perhaps in Rouen.

- I didn't know.|- You didn't consult me.

What is this? I thought|you always wanted to go to Paris.

But this is absurd. I...

Don't tell me that you suddenly find|greater attraction in Yonville

rather than in Paris.

No. No, of course I...

Don't you agree, Madame Bovary|that my son has no future in Yonville?

Yes, I've overstayed my welcome.

Please give my best regards|to your husband.

Come, Leon, you may see me home.

Well, go on.|Don't keep your mother waiting.

There we are. That's fine.

Might be a little sore|for the next few days...

- Oh, I'm sorry.|- Oh, Emma, did you want to see me?

- No, I...|- Come in, dear, please. I'm just finished.

- Is Leon still here?|- Leon is going to Paris.

- He'll never be back.|- Oh, I'm sorry.

Still that's what he always wanted,|isn't it?

- Stupid little village. Stupid...|- Emma, please.

I intrude.

Monsieur Rodolphe Boulanger|of La Huchette.

I believe we met at Vaubyessard.

Well, I'll go along now.

And I'll bring you this dull fellow|twice a week until he's well.

- That'll be fine.|- Come along.

Good day.

Attention. Attention.

Our village of Yonville is honored today|in having been chosen to present

the agricultural show|of the entire Seine district.

So you see, madame, it's in the air.|Everyone senses it.

This is the age of progress.

Mark my words, Madame Bovary, you will|live to see miracles of science unheard of.

The blind will see, the lame will walk.

Where is he? There. Look. Look, madame.|A perfect example.

Do you see that poor, wretched Hyppolite?

Do you know, madame,|that physicians in Paris

have practically perfected an operation|for the cure of strephopody

or, to be exact, endostrephopody or,|to be vulgar, a clubfoot?

May I be permitted, first of all,

to pay a tribute to the administrators|of our government?

Oh, were I but a physician|I could cure Hyppolite.

Yes, and bring renown upon our village|and celebrity upon myself.

I might even be awarded|the Legion of Honor.

Monsieur Homais, it's so hot.|Would you excuse me, please?

Certainly, my dear.

The Legion of Honor.

You farmers, agricultural laborers,|have understood that political...

- She's taken his arm.|- They do say he has plenty of money.

Plenty of money and no wife.|You know what that means.

It means he'll continue|to have plenty of money.

- Oh, Monsieur Lheureux.|- ... more patriotism than in the country.

I'm sure everybody's asking

why a man like you|would come to a village fair like this.

Why? Well,|because I've run out of excuses.

For weeks I brought my man|to your husband,

until not even I could pretend|he was still ailing.

- So now I'm reduced to agricultural shows.|- Madame Bovary.

You villain.

So now you want to risk my reputation|in public places.

What alternative do I have?

Since you won't let me risk it in private?

The welfare of the seaman, the fisherman,

the rich man in his chteau.

Upon the broad hands|of the agriculturalist

guiding his plow,

sowing his seed, reaping his harvest,

planting his cabbages,

depends our great industrial centers

where commerce and fine arts|are flourishing.

But the farmer's crying for fertilizer|and there is no fertilizer.

Shall we listen to the speeches?

My husband's sitting|not 30 feet from that window.

My darling,|I know what you're going through.

Your duties, your loyalties, your chains.

But this face...

Now, before heaven, must this face|be wasted on the shopkeepers of Yonville?

- This face that haunts me, drugs me...|- Rodolphe...

These hands that were designed|for a thousand pleasures.

These lips. Were they meant to speak|of love or grocery lists?

Don't, Rodolphe, don't.

Now, we ask for manure.

We demand manure|for the further development...

I adore you.

Now, Dr. Charles Bovary.

Gentlemen, as Monsieur Canivet|has so happily remarked...

- That's my husband.|- ... about our fair, fair land,

everywhere, commerce and the arts|are flourishing.

Be careful, they'll see us.

...means of communication,|like so many new arteries...

Well, then for heaven's sake,|let's go where they can't.

...established with any new relations...

Why, I've got to be down there|while he's speaking.

- Why?|- I can't hurt him that way. I...

No, Rodolphe, don't touch me. Please. No.

...a brash imposter...

- When will I see you?|- For you are the...

- Rodolphe, I...|- Have you a horse? Do you ever ride?

- Now just tell me, do you ever ride?|- No, please.

...you farmers, you artists,|expecting neither glory nor praise.

The same can be said of the village doctor.

Idiot! Murderer!|You might have poisoned us all!

Do you want to see me|in a prisoner's dock with criminals?

Do you want to see me dragged off|to the scaffold? Speak! Answer me!

- Articulate! Say something!|- You told me to get you a spare pan.

Did I tell you to get it from my laboratory?|Look. You see this jar?

You see what it says? "Dangerous. "|Do you know what's in it? Arsenic.

You, you've taken a pan|that was next to it.

- Monsieur Homais.|- Oh, you imbecile...

- Monsieur Homais.|- Oh, Madame Bovary.

Oh, you've no idea|what I have to contend with.

Sometimes I'm horrified myself|when I think of my responsibilities.

Monsieur Homais, may I speak to you|for a moment alone, please?

Please. Justin, put down that jar.

Go back into the kitchen. Madame.

- Monsieur Homais...|- If you please.

Yesterday at the fair

when you said that if you were a physician|you could cure Hyppolite...

Madame Bovary, you mean to say|you were listening to me?

I'm dumbfounded, but I'm very flattered.

You said that a doctor could win|the Legion of Honor.

Well, I said,|but no one would listen to me that...

Could he really win the Legion of Honor?

Well, I'll only say|that if an obscure village doctor

could perform such a great feat, his name|would be blazoned across France...

So you're sure it can be done?

My dear lady,|I have all the information here.

All the literature...

- Why do you ask?|- Charles will do it.

- Charles?|- Oh, Monsieur Homais,

if he could only be important and famous|and people listen to him.

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