e 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 Columbus. Everybody in the
neighborhood knew it, without making any opposition. They would say:
'That is Renard's place'; and nobody would have gone there, not even
Monsieur Plumeau, who is well known, be it said without any offense, for
poaching on other people's preserves.

"Well, I returned to this place of which I felt certain, just as if
I had owned it. I had scarcely got there on Saturday, when I got into
Delila, with my wife. Delila is my Norwegian boat, which I had built by
Fournaire, and which is light and safe. Well, as I said, we got into the
boat and we were going to set bait, and for setting bait there is none
to be compared with me, and they all know it. You want to know with what
I bait? I cannot answer that question; it has nothing to do with the
accident. I cannot answer; that is my secret. There are more than three
hundred people who have asked me; I have been offered glasses of brandy
and liqueur, fried fish, matelotes, to make me tell. But just go and try
whether the chub will come. Ah! they have tempted my stomach to get at
my secret, my recipe. Only my wife knows, and she will not tell it any
more than I will. Is n