poles of different lengths, according to age; and the
mother, who was very stout, gracefully manoeuvred a charming rod with a
ribbon tied to the handle. The father bowed and asked:

"Is this spot good, gentlemen?" Patissot was going to speak, when his
friend answered: "Fine!" The whole family smiled and settled down beside
the fishermen. The Patissot was seized with a wild desire to catch a
fish, just one, any kind, any size, in order to win the consideration of
these people; so he began to handle his rod as he had seen Boivin do in
the morning. He would let the cork follow the current to the end of the
line, jerk the hooks out of the water, make them describe a large circle
in the air and throw them out again a little higher up. He had even, as
he thought, caught the knack of doing this movement gracefully. He had
just jerked his line out rapidly when he felt it caught in something
behind him. He tugged, and a scream burst from behind him. He perceived,
caught on one of his hooks, and describing in the air a curve like a
meteor, a magnificent hat which he placed right in the middle of the
river.

He turned around, bewildered, dropping his pole, which followed the hat
down the stream, while the fat gentleman, his new friend, lay on his back
and roared with laughter. The lady, hatless and astounded, choked with
anger; her husband was outraged and demanded the price of the hat, and
Patissot paid about three times its value.

Then the family departed in a very dignified manner.

Patissot took another rod, and, until nightfall, he gave baths to sand
worms. His neighbor was sleeping peacefully on the grass. Toward seven in
the evening he awoke.

"Let's go away from here!" he said.

Then Patissot withdrew his line, gave a cry and sat down hard from
astonishment. At the end of the string was a tiny little fish. When they
looked at him more closely they found that he had been hooked through the
stomach; the hook had caught him as it was being drawn out of the water.

Patissot was filled with a boundless, triumphant joy; he wished to have
the fish fried for himself alone.

During the dinner the friends grew still more intimate. He learned that
the fat gentleman lived at Argenteuil and had been sailing boats for
thirty years without losing interest in the sport. He accepted to take
luncheon with him the following Sunday and to take a sail in his friend's
clipper, Plongeon. He became so interested in the conversation that