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Updated: May 22, 2025
"As you please, Monsieur Jupille; I accept the invitation unconditionally." "I am so glad you will come, Monsieur Mouillard. I only wish we could have a little storm between this and then."
At a turn of the road M. Flamaran suddenly pulled up, looked all around him, and drew a deep breath. "Hallo, Jupille! My good sir, where are you taking us? If I can believe my eyes, this is the Chestnut Knoll, down yonder is Plessis Piquet, and we are two miles from the station and the seven o'clock train!" There was no denying it.
Jupille trotted before us, carrying his rod in one hand, a luncheon- basket and a fish-bag in the other. He turned round and gave us a look at each cross-road, smiled beneath his heavy moustache, and went on faster than before. I felt sure that something out of the way was about to happen, and that the silent quill-driver was tasting a quiet joke. I had not guessed the whole truth.
I exclaimed with a very blank face. "Not one"; Madame Jupille eyed me archly, and relented. "The reason being that Mademoiselle is too discreet." "Ah!" I heaved a big sigh of relief. "You provoking woman, tell me what you mean by that?" "Well, now, it may have been ten days ago that a stranger called in and asked if I had any news of the corporal who praised my white wine.
You understand me when I say adoptive. I do not mean that there exists between us that legal bond in imitation of nature which is permitted by our codes 'adoptio imitatur naturam'; not that, but that I love her like a daughter Sidonie never having presented me with a daughter, nor with a son either, for that matter." A cry from Jupille interrupted M. Flamaran: "Can't you hear it rattle?"
He let it run for some time, to tire it, and to prolong the pleasure of playing it. "Gentlemen," he cried, "it is cutting my finger off!" A stroke from the landing-net laid the monster at our feet, its strength all spent. It weighed rather under four pounds. Jupille swore to six. My learned tutor and I sat down again side by side, but the thread of our conversation had been broken past mending.
"By Jove! it's madness at my age, but I don't care. We'll renew our youth for an hour or so. My dear Mouillard, Jupille has ordered dinner for us here. Had I been consulted I should have chosen any other place. Yet what's to be done? Hunger, friendship, and the fact that I can't catch the train, combine to silence my scruples. What do you say?" "That we are in for it now." "So be it, then."
The eminent professor had risen, displaying a face still red from his having slept with his head on his chest, but beaming with good-will. He grasped my hand with heartiness and vigor. "Here's rod and line for you, Monsieur Mouillard, all ready baited," broke in Jupille. "If you'll come with me I'll show you a good place."
"Something to ask of you to do me a kindness, or, rather, an honor." "Let's hear what it is." "This weather, Monsieur Mouillard, is very good for fishing, though rather warm." "Rather warm, Monsieur Jupille!" "It is not too warm. It was much hotter than this in 1844, yet the fish bit, I can tell you! Will you join us next Sunday in a fishing expedition?
Jupille trotted before us, carrying his rod in one hand, a luncheon-basket and a fish-bag in the other. He turned round and gave us a look at each cross-road, smiled beneath his heavy moustache, and went on faster than before. I felt sure that something out of the way was about to happen, and that the silent quill-driver was tasting a quiet joke. I had not guessed the whole truth.
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