not abandon their project, and by dint of talking about it they grew
accustomed to the idea.

On the evening of the 24th of December, between ten and eleven o'clock,
they sat thinking in the museum, both differently attired. Bouvard wore
a blouse over his knitted waistcoat, and Pecuchet, through economy, had
not left off his monk's habit for the past three months.

As they were very hungry (for Marcel, having gone out at daybreak, had
not reappeared), Bouvard thought it would be a healthful thing for him
to drink a quart bottle of brandy, and for Pecuchet to take some tea.

While he was lifting up the kettle he spilled some water on the floor.

"Awkward!" exclaimed Bouvard.

Then, thinking the infusion too small, he wanted to strengthen it with
two additional spoonfuls.

"This will be execrable," said Pecuchet.

"Not at all."

And while each of them was trying to draw the work-box closer to
himself, the tray upset and fell down. One of the cups was smashed--the
last of their fine porcelain tea-service.

Bouvard turned pale.

"Go on! Confusion! Don't put yourself about!"

"Truly, a great misfortune! I attribute it to my father."

"Your natural father," corrected Pecuchet, with a sneer.

"Ha! you insult me!"

"No; but I am tiring you out! I see it plainly! Confess it!"

And Pecuchet was seized with anger, or rather with madness. So was
Bouvard. The pair began shrieking, the one excited by hunger, the other
by alcohol. Pecuchet's throat at length emitted no sound save a
rattling.

"It is infernal, a life like this. I much prefer death. Adieu!"

He snatched up the candlestick and rushed out, slamming the door behind
him.

Bouvard, plunged in darkness, found some difficulty in opening it. He
ran after Pecuchet, and followed him up to the garret.

The candle was on the floor, and Pecuchet was standing on one of the
chairs, with a rope in his hand. The spirit of imitation got the better
of Bouvard.

"Wait for me!"

And he had just got up on the other chair when, suddenly stopping:

"Why, we have not made our wills!"

"Hold on! That's quite true!"

Their breasts swelled with sobs. They leaned against the skylight to
take breath.

The air was chilly and a multitude of stars glittered in a sky of inky
blackness.

The whiteness of the snow that covered the earth was lost in the haze of
the horizon.

They perceived, close to the ground, little lights, which, as they drew
near, looked larger, all