And he shot forth glances from his eyes, bent forward his mouth, sniffed with an exceedingly lecherous air, and ended by even addressing himself to Madame Bordin.
His impassioned gaze embarrassed her, and when he stopped, humble and palpitating, she almost sought for something to say in reply.
Pécuchet took refuge in the book: "The declaration is quite gallant."
"Ha! yes," cried she; "he is a bold wheedler."
"Is it not so?" returned Bouvard confidently. "But here's another with a more modern touch about it." And, having opened his coat, he squatted over a piece of ashlar, and, with his head thrown back, burst forth:
"Your eyes' bright flame my vision floods with joy.
Sing me some song like those, in bygone years,
You sang at eve, your dark eye filled with tears."[11]
"That is like me," she thought.
"Drink and be merry! let the wine-cup flow:
Give me this hour, and all the rest may go!"[12]
"How droll you are!" And she laughed with a little laugh, which made her throat rise up, and exposed her teeth.
"Ah! say, is it not sweet
To love and see your lover at your feet?"[13]