all these ideas are injurious to
business."

"I laugh at business!" cried Pecuchet.

Vaucorbeil went on: "At least let us make allowance for abilities."

Bouvard would not go so far.

"That is your opinion," replied the doctor; "there's an end of you,
then! Good evening. And I wish you a deluge in order to sail in your
basin!"

"And I, too, am going," said M. Foureau the next moment; and, pointing
to the pocket where the Abd-el-Kader was, "If I feel the want of
another, I'll come back."

The cure, before departing, timidly confided to Pecuchet that he did not
think this imitation of a tomb in the midst of vegetables quite
decorous. Hurel, as he withdrew, made a low bow to the company. M.
Marescot had disappeared after dessert. Madame Bordin again went over
her recipe for gherkins, promised a second for plums with brandy, and
made three turns in the large walk; but, passing close to the linden
tree, the end of her dress got caught, and they heard her murmuring:

"My God! what a piece of idiocy this tree is!"

At midnight the two hosts, beneath the arbour, gave vent to their
resentment.

No doubt one might find fault with two or three little details here and
there in the dinner; and yet the guests had gorged themselves like
ogres, showing that it was not so bad. But, as for the garden, so much
depreciation sprang from the blackest jealousy. And both of them,
lashing themselves into a rage, went on:

"Ha! water is needed in the basin, is it? Patience! they may see even a
swan and fishes in it!"

"They scarcely noticed the pagoda."

"To pretend that the ruins are not proper is an imbecile's view."

"And the tomb objectionable! Why objectionable? Hasn't a man the right
to erect one in his own demesne? I even intend to be buried in it!"

"Don't talk like that!" said Pecuchet.

Then they passed the guests in review.

"The doctor seems to me a nice snob!"

"Did you notice the sneer of M. Marescot before the portrait?"

"What a low fellow the mayor is! When you dine in a house, hang it! you
should show some respect towards the curios."

"Madame Bordin!" said Bouvard.

"Ah! that one's a schemer. Don't annoy me by talking about her."

Disgusted with society, they resolved to see nobody any more, but live
exclusively by themselves and for themselves.

And they spent days in the wine-cellar, picking the tartar off the
bottles, re-varnished all the furniture, enamelled the rooms; and each
evening, as the