dfather, my daughter, your
grandfather, Eloi Bergeret, who was not amused with trifles, thought
highly of this bit, principally because of its origin. He called it 'The
Anatomy of Putois.' And he used to say that he preferred, in certain
respects, the anatomy of Putois to the anatomy of Quaresmeprenant. 'If
the description by Xenomanes,' he said, 'is more learned and richer
in unusual and choice expressions, the description of Putois greatly
surpasses it in clarity and simplicity of style.' He held this opinion
because Doctor Ledouble, of Tours, had not yet explained chapters
thirty, thirty-one, and thirty-two of the fourth book of Rabelais."

"I do not understand at all," said Pauline.

"That is because you did not know Putois, my daughter. You must
understand that Putois was the most familiar figure in my childhood and
in that of your Aunt Zoe. In the house of your grandfather Bergeret we
constantly spoke of Putois. Each believed that he had seen him."

Pauline asked:

"Who was this Putois?"

Instead of replying, Monsieur Bergeret commenced to laugh, and
Mademoiselle Bergeret also laughed, her lips pressed tight together.
Pauline looked from one to the other. She thought it strange that her
aunt should laugh so heartily, and more strange that she should laugh
with and in sympathy with her brother. It was indeed singular, as the
brother and sister were quite different in character.

"Papa, tell me what was Putois? Since you wish me to know, tell me."

"Putois, my daughter, was a gardener. The son of honest
market-gardeners, he set up for himself as nurseryman at Saint-Omer. But
he did not satisfy his customers and got in a bad way. Having given
up business, he went out by the day. Those who employed him could not
always congratulate themselves."

At this, Mademoiselle Bergeret, laughing, rejoined;

"Do you recall, Lucien, when our father could not find his ink, his
pens, his sealing-wax, his scissors, he said: 'I suspect Putois has been
here'?"

"Ah!" said Monsieur Bergeret, "Putois had not a good reputation."

"Is that all?" asked Pauline.

"No, my daughter, it is not all. Putois was remarkable in this, that
while we knew him and were familiar with him, nevertheless--"

"--He did not exist," said Zoe.

Monsieur Bergeret looked at his sister with an air of reproach.

"What a speech, Zoe! and why break the charm like that? Do you dare say
it, Zoe? Zoe, can you prove it? To maintain that Putois did not