She had sent for Monsieur Lheureux, and had said to him—
“ I want a cloak—a large lined cloak with a deep collar.”
“ You are going on a journey?” he asked.
“ No; but—never mind. I may count on you, may I not, and quickly?”
He bowed.
“ Besides, I shall want,” she went on, “a trunk—not too heavy—handy.”
“ Yes, yes, I understand. About three feet by a foot and a half, as they are being made just now.”
“ And a travelling bag.”
“ Decidedly,” thought Lheureux, “there’s a row on here.”
“ And,” said Madame Bovary, taking her watch from her belt, “take this; you can pay yourself out of it.”
But the tradesman cried out that she was wrong; they knew one another; did he doubt her? What childishness!
She insisted, however, on his taking at least the chain, and Lheureux had already pu
