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Morissot, being the taller, swayed slightly and fell across his friend with face turned skyward and blood oozing from a rent in the breast of his coat. The German issued fresh orders. His men dispersed, and presently returned with ropes and large stones, which they attached to the feet of the two friends; then they carried them to the river bank.
This is the first fine day of the year." The sky was, in fact, of a bright, cloudless blue. They walked along, side by side, reflective and sad. "And to think of the fishing!" said Morissot. "What good times we used to have!" "When shall we be able to fish again?" asked Monsieur Sauvage. They entered a small cafe and took an absinthe together, then resumed their walk along the pavement.
And Morissot would answer, without taking his eyes from his float: "This is much better than the boulevard, isn't it?" As soon as they recognized each other they shook hands cordially, affected at the thought of meeting under such changed circumstances. Monsieur Sauvage, with a sigh, murmured: "These are sad times!" Morissot shook his head mournfully. "And such weather!
And Morissot would answer, without taking his eyes from his float: "This is much better than the boulevard, isn't it?" As soon as they recognized each other they shook hands cordially, affected at the thought of meeting under such changed circumstances. Monsieur Sauvage, with a sigh, murmured: "These are sad times!" Morissot shook his head mournfully. "And such weather!
In the spring, about ten o'clock in the morning, when the early sun caused a light mist to float on the water and gently warmed the backs of the two enthusiastic anglers, Morissot would occasionally remark to his neighbor: "My, but it's pleasant here." To which the other would reply: "I can't imagine anything better!" And these few words sufficed to make them understand and appreciate each other.
Before the war broke out Morissot had been in the habit, every Sunday morning, of setting forth with a bamboo rod in his hand and a tin box on his back. He took the Argenteuil train, got out at Colombes, and walked thence to the Ile Marante. The moment he arrived at this place of his dreams he began fishing, and fished till nightfall.
"Suppose we were to meet any of them?" said Morissot. "We'd offer them some fish," replied Monsieur Sauvage, with that Parisian light-heartedness which nothing can wholly quench. Still, they hesitated to show themselves in the open country, overawed by the utter silence which reigned around them. At last Monsieur Sauvage said boldly: "Come, we'll make a start; only let us be careful!"
He stopped suddenly, saying: "Suppose we go there?" "Where?" "Fishing." "But where?" "Why, to the old place. The French outposts are close to Colombes. I know Colonel Dumoulin, and we shall easily get leave to pass." Morissot trembled with desire. "Very well. I agree." And they separated, to fetch their rods and lines. An hour later they were walking side by side on the-highroad.
Monsieur Sauvage caught the first gudgeon, Monsieur Morissot the second, and almost every moment one or other raised his line with a little, glittering, silvery fish wriggling at the end; they were having excellent sport.
As Monsieur Morissot, watchmaker by profession and idler for the nonce, was strolling along the boulevard one bright January morning, his hands in his trousers pockets and stomach empty, he suddenly came face to face with an acquaintance Monsieur Sauvage, a fishing chum.
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