“ Yes,” said Charles, who was not listening to him.
“ This shows us,” went on the other, smiling with benign self-sufficiency, “the innumerable irregularities of the nervous system. With regard to madame, she has always seemed to me, I confess, very susceptible. And so I should by no means recommend to you, my dear friend, any of those so-called remedies that, under the pretence of attacking the symptoms, attack the constitution. No; no useless physicking! Diet, that is all; sedatives, emollients, dulcification. Then, don’t you think that perhaps her imagination should be worked upon?”
“ In what way? How?” said Bovary.
“ Ah! that is it. Such is indeed the question. ‘That is the question,’ as I lately read in a newspaper.”
But Emma, awaking, cried out—
“ The letter! the letter!”
