CHAPTER ELEVEN

The chemist had recently been reading about a wonderful new treatment for foot problems. He thought that if their local doctor could perform the new treatment successfully, Yonville would gain great fame around the country.

"What risk is there?" he asked Emma. "Success is practically certain. An end of suffering for the patient, immediate fame for the doctor. Now, why shouldn't your husband perform the operation on poor Hippolyte? I could even write an article in the local newspaper about the operation. Then, everyone in Yonville would know about your husband's great skill as a doctor."

Emma thought her husband might, indeed, be successful. It would be quite exciting to have a successful doctor as her husband, and bring her closer to fame and fortune! Her wish was for something more than love.

She made her decision, and she and the chemist soon convinced Charles that he should perform the new operation. He soon went to Rouen to learn Dr Duval's technique, and he would spend every evening studying the treatment. Meanwhile, Monsieur Homais spoke with Hippolyte, the farm boy everyday, to convince him to agree to the operation.

"You'll feel almost nothing. Remember, this is no concern of mine, I'm only thinking of you!"

Homais told the boy that he'd feel better afterwards, and would have more success with women.

Finally, poor Hippolyte agreed, after everyone in town convinced him that he must have the operation. But, the main reason he decided to do the operation was that it wouldn't cost him anything. Bovary would pay all the expenses.

The day of the operation arrived. Monsieur Homais had been organizing the event all morning. Charles made a cut, and they heard a sharp snap, and the operation was over. Hippolyte was silent with astonishment, and kissed Bovary's hands over and over.

"Now, calm down," said the chemist, "we must wait for your foot to recover now." And he went out to announce the result to the people who had been waiting in the yard curiously to find out what would happen. Charles cleaned up Hippolyte's foot, and returned home, where Emma was anxiously waiting for him. She kissed him as he arrived. They sat down for dinner. He ate well, satisfied with his work.

The evening passed by pleasantly. They talked of the fortune they would soon have, and he was content, his wife forever loving him. She too enjoyed their new affection for each other. She thought about Rodolphe for a moment, then her thoughts returned to Charles, and she noted that he had good-looking teeth.

They were in bed when Monsieur Homais arrived. He ran into their room quickly, holding up a written sheet of paper in his hand. It was from the local newspaper. He had brought it over to show them.

"Read it to us," said Bovary.

He read:

"'One of our finest doctors here in Yonville has recently performed a new surgical operation ... '"

"Ah, that's too much, too much!" said Charles.

"Oh no, it isn't not a bit of it! ' ... operated on a problematic foot. The patient was Hippolyte Tautain, for twenty-five years a local farm boy at the Golden Lion Inn. The operation went smoothly, only a few drops of blood appeared. The patient seemed to feel no pain. He is resting well and in perfect condition. His recovery should be quite speedy, indeed. At our next village dance, we may see the patient recovered well enough to be dancing with the townswomen. Science now achieves anything possible! We shall continue to keep our readers informed of this remarkable cure.'"

Five days later, however, Madame Lefrancois, owner of the Golden Lion Hotel, was running around in fear, screaming: "Help! Help! He's dying! I don't know what to do with him!"

Charles went over to the Gold Lion immediately. The poor boy was sweating in pain. The doctor took off the machine that had kept the foot from moving. The foot was swollen, hardly recognizable as a foot. Hippolyte had complained of pain before, but they hadn't noticed. Now, they had to admit that he had not been wrong. Hippolyte's foot was freed for a few hours, but soon enough, the doctor and the chemist decided that they must put the machine back in place, tighter than before. After another three days, Hippolyte was still in more pain, and the machine was removed again. They were astonished at the sight. The skin had turned a greenish color, with a dark liquid escaping from the skin. This was a serious problem. Hippolyte was losing hope. He lay in bed, complaining of serious pain, sweating under thick blankets. Madame Bovary came to see him, and gave him comfort and encouragement. Many people in town came to visit, singing and shouting as they did.

"How are you?" they asked. "You should get up, or you will never heal. You don't smell nice, either."

The sick-looking color would go farther up his leg each day. It made Bovary feel ill himself. He came to see his patient every hour. Hippolyte looked up at him with terror in his eyes.

"When am I going to get better?" he asked as he cried tears of pain. "It's awful! It's awful!"

At last, the good doctor called in another. The doctor, fifty years old, had great self-confidence and some fame within the area. He looked at the patient's leg, and then quickly declared that he would have to remove the leg. Then, he angrily scolded Monsieur Bovary and Monsieur Homais for making such a terrible mistake.

"Treatments from Paris! They should be stopped by the Government! They want to be smart, and so they force you to use their treatments! Oh, we're not as clever as they are because we're not in Paris! Straighten a foot! How can you straighten a foot?"

Instead of supporting his friend, Monsieur Bovary, the chemist had said nothing. He was impressed with the new doctor, and wanted to be respected.

It was a big event in the village, a leg removal by Dr Canivet. Everybody woke up early that day. The main street was crowded with people. The shops were not doing business. Everyone watched as the doctor arrived.

Homais appeared.

"I shall need you," the doctor told him. "Are you ready? Let's go, now!"

The chemist was embarrassed, and admitted that he could not watch the operation or he would be sick.

"You chemists are forever in your labs. Now look at me. Up at four every morning. Shower in cold water, never sick, and healthy as ever. I eat anything I'm given and never complain. And that's why I'm not weak like you. I can perform an operation just as I cut up a turkey on the dinner table ... Of course, you'll say it's habit, just habit ... "

And with no concern for the patient, Hippolyte, who was sweating with pain, the gentlemen began a discussion of how to perform the operation.

During this time, Bovary was too frightened to leave his house. He sat in the dining room, waiting for news. "What a misfortune!" he thought, "what a failure!" And yet, he had been so careful. If Hippolyte should die, it would be Charles' fault. He did not think he had made a mistake. No one would believe him, however. Other doctors and the townspeople would laugh at him. Hippolyte might even demand money from him. He would be ruined forever, with no other patients.

Emma sat opposite, watching him. She was upset that she had believed her husband had great abilities.

Charles started moving around the room.

"Sit down, you're bothering me," she said.

He sat down.

How could she have lied to herself, she was so intelligent.

There was silence between them, but every few moments, they would hear a loud scream coming from the inn, where the operation was being performed. Bovary turned pale as he heard the screams from poor Hippolyte.

Emma continued to think about her situation. She had tried to love him, but could not.

Charles then looked at her. Everything annoyed her about him. She regretted marrying such a fool. He looked out the window. Dr Canivet was walking outside. Homais followed him, as they walked to the chemist's shop.

He suddenly turned to his wife, and tenderly said, "Kiss me, my dear!"

"Leave me alone!" she said in anger.

"Why? Why?" he asked in astonishment. "You're not yourself! You know I love you! Come to me!"

"Stop!" she cried in a terrible voice, and she ran out of the room.

Charles fell back into his chair. He was crushed, and began to cry.

When Rodolphe arrived in the garden that night, he found his mistress waiting for him on the steps. They put their arms around each other, and all their previous anger was gone.

(end of section)