rd had the advantage of him in other ways. His hair watch-chain,
and his manner of whipping-up the mustard-sauce, revealed the greybeard,
full of experience; and he ate with the corners of his napkin under his
armpits, giving utterance to things which made Pecuchet laugh. It was a
peculiar laugh, one very low note, always the same, emitted at long
intervals. Bouvard's laugh was explosive, sonorous, uncovering his
teeth, shaking his shoulders, and making the customers at the door turn
round to stare at him.

When they had dined they went to take coffee in another establishment.
Pecuchet, on contemplating the gas-burners, groaned over the spreading
torrent of luxury; then, with an imperious movement, he flung aside the
newspapers. Bouvard was more indulgent on this point. He liked all
authors indiscriminately, having been disposed in his youth to go on the
stage.

He had a fancy for trying balancing feats with a billiard-cue and two
ivory balls, such as Barberou, one of his friends, had performed. They
invariably fell, and, rolling along the floor between people's legs, got
lost in some distant corner. The waiter, who had to rise every time to
search for them on all-fours under the benches, ended by making
complaints. Pecuchet picked a quarrel with him; the coffee-house keeper
came on the scene, but Pecuchet would listen to no excuses, and even
cavilled over the amount consumed.

He then proposed to finish the evening quietly at his own abode, which
was quite near, in the Rue St. Martin. As soon as they had entered he
put on a kind of cotton nightgown, and did the honours of his apartment.

A deal desk, placed exactly in the centre of the room caused
inconvenience by its sharp corners; and all around, on the boards, on
the three chairs, on the old armchair, and in the corners, were
scattered pell-mell a number of volumes of the "Roret Encyclopaedia,"
"The Magnetiser's Manual," a Fenelon, and other old books, with heaps of
waste paper, two cocoa-nuts, various medals, a Turkish cap, and shells
brought back from Havre by Dumouchel. A layer of dust velveted the
walls, which otherwise had been painted yellow. The shoe-brush was lying
at the side of the bed, the coverings of which hung down. On the ceiling
could be seen a big black stain, produced by the smoke of the lamp.

Bouvard, on account of the smell no doubt, asked permission to open the
window.

"The papers will fly away!" cried Pecuchet, who was more afraid of th