ard. "But, to
believe it, it is necessary to admit two preliminary cognitions--that of
the body which has felt, and that of the intelligence which has
perceived; to admit sensation and reason. Human testimonies! and
consequently open to suspicion."

Pecuchet reflected--folded his arms. "But we are about to fall into the
frightful abyss of scepticism."

In Bouvard's opinion it frightened only weak brains.

"Thank you for the compliment," returned Pecuchet. "However, there are
indisputable facts. We can arrive at truth within a certain limit."

"Which? Do two and two always make four? Is that which is contained in
some degree less than that which contains it? What is the meaning of
nearly true, a fraction of God, the part of an indivisible thing?"

"Oh, you are a mere sophist!" And Pecuchet, annoyed, remained for three
days in a sulk.

They employed themselves in running through the contents of several
volumes. Bouvard smiled from time to time, and renewing the
conversation, said:

"The fact is, it is hard to avoid doubt; thus, for the existence of God,
Descartes', Kant's, and Leibnitz's proofs are not the same, and mutually
destroy one another. The creation of the world by atoms, or by a spirit,
remains inconceivable. I feel myself, at the same time, matter and
thought, while all the time I am ignorant of what one or the other
really is. Impenetrability, solidity, weight, seem to me to be mysteries
just as much as my soul, and, with much stronger reason, the union of
the soul and the body. In order to explain it, Leibnitz invented his
harmony, Malebranche premotion, Cudworth a mediator, and Bossuet sees in
it a perpetual miracle."

"Exactly," said Pecuchet. And they both confessed that they were tired
of philosophy. Such a number of systems confused them. Metaphysics is of
no use: one can live without it. Besides, their pecuniary embarrassments
were increasing. They owed one bill to Beljambe for three hogsheads of
wine, another to Langlois for two stone of sugar, a sum of one hundred
francs to the tailor, and sixty to the shoemaker.

Their expenditures were continuous, of course, and meantime Maitre Gouy
did not pay up.

They went to Marescot to ask him to raise money for them, either by the
sale of the Ecalles meadow, or by a mortgage on their farm, or by giving
up their house on the condition of getting a life annuity and keeping
the usufruct.

In Marescot's opinion this would be an impracticable course;