“Oh, very few,” he answered.  “There is a place they call La Pature, on the top of the hill, on the edge of the forest.  Sometimes, on Sundays, I go and stay there with a book, watching the sunset.”

“I think there is nothing so admirable as sunsets,” she resumed; “but especially by the side of the sea.”

“Oh, I adore the sea!” said Monsieur Leon.

“And then, does it not seem to you,” continued Madame Bovary, “that the mind travels more freely on this limitless expanse, the contemplation of which elevates the soul, gives ideas of the infinite, the ideal?”

“It is the same with mountainous landscapes,” continued Leon.  “A cousin of mine who travelled in Switzerland last year told me that one could not picture to oneself the poetry of the lakes, the charm of the waterfalls, the gigantic effect of the glaciers.  One sees pines of incredible size across torrents, cottages suspended over precipices, and, a thousand feet below one, whole valleys when the clouds open.  Such spectacles must stir to enthusiasm, incline to prayer, to ecstasy; and I no longer marvel at that celebrated musician who, the better to inspire his imagination, was in the habit of playing the piano before some imposing site.”

“You play?” she asked.

“No, but I am very fond of music,” he replied.

“Ah! don’t you listen to him, Madame Bovary,” interrupted Homais, bending over his plate.  “That’s sheer modesty.  Why, my dear fellow, the other day in your room you were singing ‘L’Ange Gardien’ ravishingly.  I heard you from the laboratory.  You gave it like an actor.”

Leon, in fact, lodged at the chemist’s where he had a small room on the second floor, overlooking the Place.  He blushed at the compliment of his landlord, who had already turned to the doctor, and was enumerating to him, one after the other, all the principal inhabitants of Yonville.  He was telling anecdotes, giving information; the fortune of the notary was not known exactly, and “there was the Tuvache household,” who made a good deal of show.

Emma continued, “And what music do you prefer?”

“Oh, German music; that which makes you dream.”

“Have you been to the opera?”

“Not yet; but I shall go next year, when I am living at Paris to finish reading for the bar.”

“As I had the honour of putting it to your husband,” said the chemist, “with regard to this poor Yanoda who has run away, you will find yourself, thanks to his extravagance, in the possession of one of the most comfortable houses of Yonville.  Its greatest convenience for a doctor is a door giving on the Walk, where one can go in and out unseen.  Moreover, it contains everything that is agreeable in a household—­a laundry, kitchen with offices, sitting-room, fruit-room, and so on.  He was a gay dog, who didn’t care what he spent.  At the end of the garden, by the side of the water, he had an arbour built just for the purpose of drinking beer in summer; and if madame is fond of gardening she will be able—­”