Chapter 21 Section Eleven

He had recently read an article praising a new cure for lameness.Because he advocated progress, he came up with the idea of ​​loving the countryside. In order to catch up with the advanced level, Rongzhen should also undergo surgery to correct clubfoot. "Because," he said to Emma, ​​"what are the risks? You do the math (he counts the advantages of trying with his fingers): success is almost certain, the patient suffers less pain, the appearance is better, the operating People can become famous very quickly. For example, why didn't your husband rescue poor Hippolyte, the clerk of the Golden Lion Hotel? You see, can he not tell the tourists when he is cured? Besides (Homer lowered voice, glance around), who won't let me write a report for the newspaper? Well! My God! The report will go around... Everyone will talk about it... And it will snowball! Ah! Who Know what will happen? Who knows?"

Indeed, Bovary might succeed; Emma did not know that he was not capable enough, and how satisfied she would be if she could induce him to do a great deed of fame and fortune!She was looking for a backer more reliable than love. Unable to withstand the entreaties of the pharmacist and Emma, ​​Charles reluctantly agreed.He had brought Dr. Duval's masterpiece "The Correction of the Lame" from Rouen, and he devoted himself to studying it every night.He studied equinus, varus, and valgus, that is to say, clubfoot, inner clubfoot, and outer clubfoot (or, to put it more generally, various deviations of the foot, from top to bottom, from the outside inwards, inwards out), as well as clubfoot and heel clubfoot (in other words, plankfoot and stiltfoot).At the same time, Mr. Homais also used various reasons to persuade the innkeeper to perform the operation.

"Maybe you won't feel any pain; a prick like bloodletting may be more convenient than removing calluses." Hippolyte was thinking, rolling his dazed eyes. "Actually," went on the druggist, "it's none of my business! It's all for your own good! It's purely humanitarian! My friend, I don't like to see you limping and making people cry. Nasty, and the swaying of your waist, no matter what you say, it's always in the way when you're working." So Homa pointed out to him that he would feel happier and move more easily after healed his foot, and he even hinted that it would be easier to please women.Upon hearing this, the groom smiled awkwardly.Then Homais hits his vanity again:

"Aren't you a man, my fellow? What if you are called to serve in the army, to fight under the banner? . . . Ah! Hippolyte!" Homais walked away, still saying: he couldn't understand how a man could be so obstinate, so blind, and even refuse the benefits that science offers him. The unlucky bug gave in, because everyone seemed to have agreed to deal with him.Binet, who never minded his own business, Mrs. Lefrancois, Artemis, the neighbors, and even the mayor, Mr. Duvache, all came to persuade him and preached to him, which made him embarrassed.However, in the end, it was the operation "don't want him to spend money" that played a decisive role.Bovary even promised to supply machines for performing surgery.Emma asked him to be generous, and of course he agreed, keeping in his mind that his wife was an angel.

So he consulted the pharmacist, made a mistake and started from the beginning again, and finally asked a carpenter and a locksmith to make a box-like machine for the third time, weighing about eight pounds, and how much iron and iron sheets were used. , leather, screws, nuts, I can't tell, anyway, I didn't cut corners. However, in order to cut which tendon of Hippolyte, one must first know what kind of lame he is.His feet were almost in line with his legs, but it couldn't be said that they were not turned inward.That is to say, he has clubfoot plus varus, or slightly varus plus severe clubfoot.His equinus was indeed about the size of a horse's hoof, with rough skin, stiff tendons, thick toes, and black nails like iron nails, but this did not prevent the lame man from running as fast as a deer from morning to night.Everyone saw him bouncing around the cart in the square, providing support with unequal strength on the left and right.It seemed that his lame leg was even more powerful than his good one.The lame leg has been used for a long time, and it has acquired some excellent spiritual qualities. It is full of energy and durable, and it will live up to the trust when it encounters heavy work.

Since it is a equinus, the Achilles tendon should be cut first, and then the anterior tibialis muscle will be damaged to get rid of the varus; because the doctor dare not take the risk of doing two operations at once, in fact, doing one has made him tremble , lest I accidentally injure an important part that I can't figure out. Amboise.Pare had his first arterial ligation after 1,500 years in Sayres; Dupuyten had opened a thick layer of brain and removed abscesses; It's not like Mr. Bovary came up to Hippolyte with a scalpel, his heart beat so fast, his hands shook so badly, and his nerves were so tense.As in the hospital, on a nearby table lay a pile of gauze, waxed thread, bandages—a pyramid of bandages, all brought from the pharmacy.Mr. Homais has been making preparations early in the morning, both to open everyone's eyes and to create illusions for himself.

Charles made a hole in the skin, and with a click, the tendon was severed, and the operation was over.Hippolyte was surprised and hadn't recovered; he just bent down and kept kissing Bovary's hand. "Well, be calm," said the druggist, "and show your gratitude to your benefactor another day!" He went out into the courtyard and told the results of the operation to half a dozen inquisitors, who had expected Hippolyte to come out at once.Charles fastened the box of the machine on the patient's leg, and went home. Emma was waiting anxiously at the door.She threw herself on him and hugged him, and they ate together.He ate a lot and drank a cup of coffee, which he only allowed himself to do when he had guests at home on Sundays.

The evening was pleasant, the conversation was speculative, and the dreams were shared.They talked about the money to be made in the future, the new equipment for the family; he saw his fame expanded, his life was happier, and his wife loved him all the time; The happiness of the new life, after all, also has some affection for this poor guy who loves him.Suddenly, the image of Rodolphe flashed through her mind; but when her eyes fell on Charles again, she was surprised to find that his teeth were not ugly. While they were still in bed, Monsieur Homaiss, ignoring what the cook said, ran into the bedroom with a sheet of paper he had just written.This was his report for Le Beacon de Rouen.He showed them first.

"Read it yourself," said Bovary. He read it: "While preconceived ideas still hang over part of Europe, the light has begun to penetrate our countryside. And so, this Tuesday, our little town of Ronne became a testing ground for surgical procedures that It is also noble charity. One of our most famous practitioners, M. Bovary . . . " "Ah! It's too much! It's too much!" Charles was so excited that he couldn't speak. "No! Not at all! Shouldn't it be so! . . . " "Operated on a cripple, . . . " "No scientific jargon, because, you know, in the newspapers . . . not everyone understands it; the public must be made .

"Of course," said Bovary. "Read on." "I'll go on," said the druggist. "One of our most famous practitioners, Monsieur Bovary, operated on a lame man named Hippolyte Totin, who was employed by the widow Lefrancois, who kept the Lion's Inn on the Grand Playground, and employed twenty I have been a groom for five years. This attempt is a pioneering work, and everyone cares about the patients, so that the inn is full of people. The operation seems to be performed by magic, and there are hardly a few drops of blood on the skin, which seems to be an explanation; The tenacity of the tendon is not strong enough to withstand the power of medical skill. It is strange to say that the patient does not feel pain, we can testify by 'witnessing'. His condition, up to now, has never been better. All signs make people believe that: The patient's recovery is not far away; next time there is a festival in the town, maybe we will see the good man Hippolyte dancing his Dionysian dance among the joyful and singing crowd! See him full of energy, jumping Hopping, didn't he prove to everyone that his foot was completely healed? Therefore, glory to the generous and selfless scholar! Glory to the tireless, day and night, dedicated to the cause, to promote human happiness and alleviate human suffering! Glory! Triple The glory! The blind can see, the lame can walk, is it not time to shout for joy! Once upon a time, the gods only promised verbally to the elect, but now science has in fact given to all mankind! This remarkable event We will continue to report to readers about the various stages of the medical process."

Unexpectedly, five days later, Madame Lefrancois came running in panic, and shouted: "Help! He's going to die! . . . My head's gone!" Charles hurried to the Golden Lion Inn.The apothecary saw him pass by the square without his hat on, and left the chemist alone.He rushed to the inn, out of breath, flushed and anxious, and asked anyone who came upstairs: "What about the clubfoot patients we care about?" The clubfoot sufferer is twitching in agony until the leg-mounted machine hits the wall, literally punching a hole in it. In order not to move the position of the leg, the doctor removed the box of the machine very carefully, and everyone saw a terrible sight.The feet were so swollen that they were not feet, the skin on the legs was almost bursting, and the skin was smeared with blood from that wonderful machine. Pollitt had been crying for a long time, and no one cared; now he had to admit that he was not just complaining, so he took the machine away for a few hours.But just after the swelling subsided a little, the two medical experts thought that the leg should be put back into the machine and tied more tightly, thinking that the leg would heal faster.Three days later, Hippolyte couldn't take it anymore, and they moved the machine away again. They were all shocked when they saw the result.The leg was swollen to a leaden skin, and there were blisters everywhere, and black water oozed from the blisters.The situation has become more serious.Hippolyte began to feel distressed, so Madame Lefrancois moved him into a small room next to the kitchen, where at least it would be less stuffy.However, the tax collector eats three meals a day here, and is deeply dissatisfied with such neighbors.So Hippolyte was moved to the billiard room again. There he lay, groaning under the heavy covers, pale, bearded, sunken eyes, sweating profusely, turning around on the dirty pillow, battling flies.Madame Bovary came to see him.She also brought dressing cloths, both comforting and encouraging.In fact, he was not alone, especially on market days, when countrymen played billiards by his bedside, used billiard sticks as swords, smoked, drank, sang, and yelled. "How's it going?" they said, patting him on the shoulder. "Ah! You look dissatisfied! It's all your own fault. You should be, and you shouldn't be." Then they talked about other patients who had been cured by other methods without using any machine; then, as if to comfort him, they added some sarcastic remarks: "You take yourself too seriously! Get up! You are not a pampered king! Ah! It's all right, don't be poor and happy! You won't feel comfortable!" Indeed, Bovary himself felt sad as the ulcer progressed more and more.He comes every hour, every hour.Hippolyte looked at him with terrified eyes, and stammered and whimpered: "When will I get better?...Ah! Help me!... How unlucky I am! How unlucky I am!" But the doctor left and just told him to eat less. "Don't listen to him, my good chap," went on Madame Lefrancois. "They've made you miserable! You can't lose any more weight. Come on, just eat!" She brought him good soup, slices of mutton, pieces of fat, and sometimes small cups Brandy, but he dared not bring the glass to his mouth and drink it. The abbe Bounisin heard that he was seriously ill, and he was begged to see the sick man.He began to express sympathy for the patient, but at the same time said that since the illness was God's will, he should be happy, and he should use this opportunity to ask God for forgiveness. "Because," said the priest in a fatherly tone, "you have been somewhat neglectful of your duties. We seldom see you in sacred service; how many years have you not been near the altar? I know you are busy, man The troubles of God have distracted your mind from saving your soul. But now is the time to think about it. But don't be discouraged. I know many people who have committed great sins and are coming to God for the final judgment. (Of course you haven't reached this stage yet, I know very well), they begged God for mercy repeatedly, and finally died in peace. I hope you can set a good example for us like them! So to prepare in advance, why not say a prayer every morning and evening, saying 'I salute you, Mother Mary of Mercy', or 'Our Father in heaven'! Yes, chant! Even watch For my sake, to get my gratitude. What is it going to cost? . . . Will you promise me?" The poor guy said yes.The priest continued to come for several days.He chatted with the proprietress, and even told stories, interspersed with jokes and puns that Hippolyte couldn't understand.When the situation required, he was serious again and talked about religion. His zeal later paid off, for it was not long before the clubfoot patient stated that as soon as he recovered from his illness, he went to worship at the Puji Church.After hearing this, Mr. Bunixian replied that there is nothing wrong with it. It is better to take two precautions than to take only one. "There's no risk anyway." The pharmacist was outraged and objected to what he called "the priest's manipulative artifice."He thought this would hinder Hippolyte's recovery, so he said to Madame Lefrancois over and over again: "Let him be quiet! Your mysticism will only disturb his spirits." But the good old woman would not listen to him.He is "the cause of trouble."She wanted to fight against him, and even hung a full holy water jar by the patient's bedside, and put a branch of boxwood in it. However, the power of religion is no greater than that of surgeons, and it seems that they cannot save patients.The ulcer was unstoppable, and it kept rushing up towards the lower part of the stomach. It was useless to change the prescription and ointment, and the muscles atrophied more and more day by day.Finally, Madame Lefrancois asked Charles, since medicine was of no avail, whether he should go to Newcastle to invite Mr. Carnivet, a famous doctor. Charles had no choice but to nod in agreement. This colleague is a doctor of medicine, fifty years old, with a high position and strong self-confidence. When he saw this leg rotten to the knee, he laughed contemptuously.Then he simply said it needed an amputation, and went to the pharmacist and yelled at these idiots for getting a poor man to such a degree.He seized the button of Mr. Homais' coat, pushed him forward and backward, and cursed loudly in the pharmacy: "This is a new invention in Paris! This is the great idea of ​​doctors in the capital! This is the same crooked practice that the government should ban like orthophthalmology, anesthetics, and bladder lithotripsy! But they pretend to be experts, boast, and give you random medicines , but no matter what the result is. We people, we are not like others who can brag; we are not learned, we will not boast, we will not flattery; Become a sick person! If you want to cure your lameness! Can lameness be cured? This is like trying to hunchback instead of bending over!" Homais was very distressed by this tirade, but he kept his countenance and smiled, not daring to offend Mr. Carneyway, whose prescriptions sometimes went as far as Rongzhen.He didn't dare to defend Bovary, he didn't even say a word, he gave up his principles, and for the sake of greater commercial interests, he neglected his righteousness. Dr. Carneyway's amputation is going to be a big deal in town!That day, all the residents got up early in the morning. Although the street was full of people, it was a bit miserable, as if they were watching a beheading.There was talk of Hippolyte's illness in the grocery store; the shops were closed, and the mayor's wife, Mrs. Duvache, stood motionless at the window, anxious to see the doctor pass by. He came in his own buggy.But the spring on the right side of the carriage was pressed by his heavy body for too long, and it sank, and as a result, the carriage staggered a little when it drove.On the cushion next to him, a large box was visible, covered with red roan, with three brass buckles shining with majesty.The doctor came like a whirlwind through the doorway of the Lion's Inn.He shouted for the horses to be unloaded, and then went into the stables himself to see if the horses were fed with oats, for when he was in a sick man's house his first concerns were always with his mare and buggy.When it was mentioned, people even said: "Oh! Mr. Carneyway is eccentric and different!" His calm and steady, invariable, only made people respect him more.Even if he were the only one left in the world, he would not change his habits one iota.Here comes Omer. "I'm going to need you," said the doctor. "Ready? Let's go!" But the pharmacist blushed and admitted he was too sensitive to be involved in such a major operation. "A man just looking at it," he said, "you know, can get crazy! Besides, my nervous system is like this..." "Ah! Got it!"Carneyway interrupted him to say, "It seems to me that on the contrary, you are prone to strokes. Actually, it is not surprising, because you gentlemen pharmacists, you are always in the kitchen, how can you not change you What about my temperament! Look at me, I get up at four o’clock every morning, always shave my face with cold water, never get cold, don’t wear flannel, and never catch a cold. This is my body! Sometimes I live like this, sometimes If you live like that, you can see everything and eat what you have. So I am not as delicate as you. If you want me to kill a Christian, I don’t care as much as killing chickens and ducks. You will say after hearing this: 'This is a habit !……Habit!'……" So, while Hippolyte was sweating under the covers, the two gentlemen talked endlessly; The conditions that need to be met for medical skills.He regards medicine as a sacred profession, although a doctor without a doctorate is not competent.Finally, speaking of the patient, he examined the bandage Homa had brought (actually the same bandage from the previous operation) and asked for someone to hold down the operated leg.They wanted someone to fetch Lestiboudois.Mr. Carneyway rolled up his sleeves and went into the pool-room, while the apothecary stayed outside with Artemis and the landlady, two women with faces whiter than their aprons, and their ears stuck to the crack of the door. listen. During the amputation period, Bovary dared not step out of the house.He was down in the hall, sitting by the fireless fire, his chin on his chest, his hands clenched, his eyes staring blankly. "How unlucky!" he thought to himself, "what a disappointment!" In fact, he took every imaginable precaution.It can only be blamed on fate.It doesn't matter!If Hippolyte died in the future, didn't he kill him?When the doctor asked, what reason should he give to answer?Maybe, is there something wrong with him?He thought about it, but couldn't figure it out.In fact, even the most famous surgeons get it wrong sometimes.But people don't believe it!People would just laugh at him and call him an unknown doctor!His infamy will reach Folge!Pass to Newcastle!Pass to Rouen!Know it everywhere!Who knows if any of his peers will write articles attacking him?Then there will be a pen and ink lawsuit, and the answer will be in the newspaper.Even Hippolyte would sue him.Seeing that his reputation has been ruined, he is in a mess, and he is completely finished!He thought about it, he was up and down, like an empty bucket, dangling to and fro in the waves of the sea. Emma sat opposite and looked at him.She didn't share his shame, what she was ashamed of was how could she imagine such a man would do anything worthwhile, couldn't she see his mediocrity and incompetence after watching it twenty times ! Charles walked up and down the room.His boots rattled on the floor. "Would you sit down?" she said. "It's annoying!" He sat down again. She is such a smart person, how could she make another mistake?What wishful thinking made her ruin her life so repeatedly?She thought of her extravagant nature, the poverty of her soul, the poverty of marriage and family, the dreams of a wounded swallow in a mire, all she had wanted, all she had given up, all she might have had !Why?Why can't I get it? Suddenly a cry pierced the sky and broke the silence in the village.When Bovary heard this, his face immediately turned pale, and he almost fainted.But she only frowned, made an upset gesture, and continued to think about her thoughts.But it's for him, for this stupid guy, for this man who is slow in understanding and feeling!He was still there, not thinking at all that his name was going to be a joke, and that she was going to be as ridiculous as he was.But she had made an effort to love him, and she cried and regretted that she should have obeyed another man! "However, maybe it's the valgus type?" Bovary, who was contemplating, suddenly called out. This blurted sentence shocked Emma's thoughts like a bullet falling on a silver plate. She trembled all over, raised her head, and guessed what the meaning of this sentence she couldn't understand was.They looked at each other without saying a word, the psychological distance between them was so great that they were stunned when they found that people were close by.Charles watched her with the blurred eyes of a drunken man, while listening, motionless, to the last cries of amputation.The shouts were continuous and dragged on for a long time, and sometimes they peaked and made strange screams, just like the howling and whining of animals slaughtered in the distance.Emma bit her pale lips, rubbed a broken piece of coral in her hands, and stared at Charles with flaming eyes, as if about to shoot two rockets at him.Everything about him irritated her now, his face, his clothes, his unspoken words, his whole being, his being in a word.She regretted that she should not have obeyed women's morals for him in the past, as if it was a crime, so the remaining bit of female virtues in her heart completely collapsed under the violent blow of her arrogance.The vicious taunts that a triumph of adultery would provoke instead amused her.The lover's image came back to her with a more enchanting fascination; her whole soul was thrown into memory, and a new enthusiasm drove her to this image; and Charles seemed to have left her life forever. , no longer existed, could not even exist anymore, had disappeared without a trace, as if she had seen him dying and dying with her own eyes. Footsteps sounded on the sidewalk.Charles, looking out of the drawn curtains, saw Mr. Carneyway mopping his sweaty brow with his handkerchief in full sunlight by the edge of the market.Homa was behind him, holding a big red box in his hand, and the two were walking towards the pharmacy. At that moment Charles, like a deflated ball, needing the warmth of a home to cheer him up, turned to his wife and said: "Kiss me, my dear!" "Go away!" she said, flushed with anger. "What's the matter with you? What's the matter with you?" he repeated inexplicably. "Quiet! Stay calm! ... You know I love you! ... Come on!" "Enough!" she cried impatiently. Emma ran out of the hall and slammed the door so hard that the rain gauge on the wall fell off and shattered on the ground. Charles sank into an armchair, bewildered, not knowing why, thinking she was insane, began to cry, feeling vaguely that some incomprehensible misfortunes were happening around her. In the evening Rodolphe came to the garden and found his mistress waiting for him on the bottom step.They hug tightly.And the resentment between them melted away in the passionate kiss.