a misfortune of which I was the prime victim all the
time, and with which my will has nothing to do. The facts are their own
commentary, Monsieur le President. I am an honest man, a hard-working
man, an upholsterer, living in the same street for the last sixteen
years, known, liked, respected and esteemed by all, as my neighbors can
testify, even the porter's wife, who is not amiable every day. I am fond
of work, I am fond of saving, I like honest men and respectable
amusements. That is what has ruined me, so much the worse for me; but as
my will had nothing to do with it, I continue to respect myself.

"Every Sunday for the last five years my wife and I have spent the day at
Passy. We get fresh air, and, besides, we are fond of fishing. Oh! we are
as fond of it as we are of little onions. Melie inspired me with that
enthusiasm, the jade, and she is more enthusiastic than I am, the scold,
seeing that all the mischief in this business is her fault, as you will
see immediately.

"I am strong and mild tempered, without a pennyworth of malice in me. But
she! oh! la! la! she looks like nothing; she is short and thin. Very
well, she does more mischief than a weasel. I do not deny that she has
some good qualities; she has some, and very important ones for a man in
business. But her character! Just ask about it in the neighborhood, and
even the porter's wife, who has just sent me about my business--she
will tell you something about it.

"Every day she used to find fault with my mild temper: 'I would not put
up with this! I would not put up with that.' If I had listened to her,
Monsieur le President, I should have had at least three hand-to-hand
fights a month . . . ."

Madame Renard interrupted him: "And for good reasons, too; they laugh
best who laugh last."

He turned toward her frankly: "Well, I can't blame you, since you were
not the cause of it."

Then, facing the President again, he said:

"I will continue. We used to go to Passy every Saturday evening, so as to
begin fishing at daybreak the next morning. It is a habit which has
become second nature with us, as the saying is. Three years ago this
summer I discovered a place, oh! such a spot. Oh, dear, dear! In the
shade, eight feet of water at least and perhaps ten, a hole with cavities
under the bank, a regular nest for fish and a paradise for the fisherman.
I might look upon that fishing hole as my property, Monsieur le
President, as I was its Christopher Columb