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Updated: May 8, 2025
Is that which is contained in some degree less than that which contains it? What is the meaning of nearly true, a fraction of God, the part of an indivisible thing?" "Oh, you are a mere sophist!" And Pécuchet, annoyed, remained for three days in a sulk. They employed themselves in running through the contents of several volumes.
Pécuchet, from his bed, saw all these things in a row, and sometimes he went as far as Bouvard's room to lengthen the perspective. One spot remained empty, exactly opposite to the coat of arms, that intended for the Renaissance chest. It was not finished; Gorju was still working at it, jointing the panels in the bakehouse, squaring them or undoing them.
The price was paid to them directly, and the gold napoleons counted over a chest of oats appeared to them more glittering than any others, more rare and valuable. In the month of November they brewed cider. It was Bouvard that whipped the horse, while Pécuchet on the trough shovelled off the strained apples.
The eldest of the brothers, M. Étienne, had announced that he would respect the will. Bouvard fell into a kind of stupefied condition. He kept repeating in a low tone, smiling with the peaceful smile of drunkards: "An income of fifteen thousand livres!" and Pécuchet, whose head, however, was stronger, was not able to get over it. They were rudely shaken by a letter from Tardivel.
Vaucorbeil watched him, then, with a fillip, knocked off his cap. Pécuchet recovered his faculties. "I suspected as much," said the physician; "the glazed peak hypnotises you like a mirror; and this phenomenon is not rare with persons who look at a shining substance too attentively."
Since the day when Pécuchet had watched the little servant-maid drawing water, he had frequently talked to her, and whether she was sweeping the corridor or spreading out the linen, or taking up the saucepans, he could never grow tired of looking at her surprised himself at his emotions, as in the days of adolescence.
Bouvard talked about coprolites, which are animals' excrements in a petrified state. The Abbé Jeufroy appeared surprised at the matter. After all, if it were so, it was a reason the more for wondering at Providence. Pécuchet confessed that, up to the present, their inquiries had not been fruitful; and yet the environs of Falaise, like all Jurassic soils, should abound in remains of animals.
Since nothing could be done, he ought to do himself justice. Pécuchet did not weep. Very pale, or rather livid, with open mouth, and hair stuck together with cold sweat, he stood apart, brooding. But the curé who had suddenly arrived on the scene, murmured, in a wheedling tone: "Ah! really, what a misfortune! It is very annoying. Be sure that I enter into your feelings."
As Bouvard had spoken eulogistically to him about George Sand, Pécuchet proceeded to read Consuelo, Horace, and Mauprat, was beguiled by the author's vindication of the oppressed, the socialistic and republican aspect of her works, and the discussions contained in them. According to Bouvard, however, these elements spoiled the story, and he asked for love-tales at the circulating library.
Bouvard, with his head thrown back, followed with difficulty the angles, quadrilaterals, and pentagons, which it is necessary to imagine in order to make yourself at home in the sky. Pécuchet went on: "The swiftness of light is eighty thousand leagues a second; one ray of the Milky Way takes six centuries to reach us; so that a star at the moment we observe it may have disappeared.
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