He was full of that common sense which borders on stupidity. For a long time he had been living quietly and economically, temperate out of prudence, continent by temperament, when suddenly he was seized with a sickening apprehension. One evening in the street he had an attack of dizziness that made him fear a stroke of apoplexy. He betook himself to a doctor, and received for five francs the following diagnosis:
“Mr. Patissot, fifty-two years old, a clerk, single. Full-blooded temperament, threatened with apoplexy. Appications of cold water, a moderate diet, plenty of exercise.
Patissot almost collapsed, and during the whole of the following month he worked in his office with a wet towel wrapped around his head like a turban, from which drops of water fell frequently on his work, compelling him to begin it all over again. Every little while he would read over the prescription in the hope of discovering some hidden meaning, and tried to fix upon the kind of exercise that would insure him against apoplexy.
He consulted his friends, to whom he showed the fatal paper. One of them suggested boxing. He at once hunted up an instructor, and received the very first day an uppercut which disgusted him forever with this healthful form of exercise. Fencing stiffened him so that he could not sleep for two nights, and the exertion of singlestick almost killed him. Suddenly he had an inspiration. It was to take long walks on Sundays in the suburbs of Paris and in those parts of the city that were unknown to him.
The thought of the means of procuring a proper outfit for these trips filled his mind during a whole week. And on Sunday, the last day of May, he began his preparations. After reading all the queer advertisements that are distributed in the streets by a lot of poor, half-blind, or limping creatures, he went to various shops just to look around, intending to purchase some time later. He first entered a so-called American shoe-shop and asked to see some thick walking shoes. The clerk brought out some contrivances that looked like ironclad battleships, bristling all over with nails, and explained that they were manufactured from the hide of the Rocky Mountain bisons. He was so carried away with them that he would gladly have bought two pairs. But one sufficed and he laid down the money and departed, carrying the bundle under his arm, which grew lame from the exertion.
He bought a pair of corduroy trousers such as carpenters wear, and also heavy linen gaiters that reached to his knees. He still needed a knapsack in which to carry his provisions, a field glass to reconnoiter distant villages perched on the slope of the hills, and an ordnance map for reference, so that he would not have to question the peasants working in the fields.
Then, to be able to endure the heat, he resolved to buy a light alpaca coat, advertised by the well-known firm of Raminau, at the bargain price of six francs fifty.
He went to the shop, and a tall young man with rosy fingernails, bushy hair, and a pleasant smile, showed him the desired garment. It did not conform to the statements of the advertisement. Patissot inquired hesitatingly: “Will it really wear well?”
The young man simulated perfectly the embarrassment of an honest salesman who does not wish to deceive a customer and, lowering his voice in a confidential manner, he said: “Dear me! Monsieur, you must understand that for six francs and a half we are unable to furnish an article like this, for instance,” and he held up a coat very much better than the other.
After looking it over, Patissot asked the price: Twelve francs fifty. It was a temptation. But before making up his mind, he again questioned the clerk, who was watching him narrowly: “Then you guarantee this one? Is it really good?” “Yes, it’s quite good, but of course it mustn’t get wet! If you want good quality you have it right here, but, there are coats and coats. It is first-rate for the price. Twelve francs fifty, of course, is very little. Naturally, a coat for twenty-five francs would be much better. For this amount you get a very superior article, just as strong as cloth and more durable. After a wetting, a little pressing will make it come out like new; it never fades and is warmer yet lighter than cloth.” And he held up the goods, crumpling, shaking, and stretching it, to show its excellent quality. He spoke convincingly, dispelling the customer’s doubts with word and gesture. Patissot bought the coat, and the pleasant salesman tied the bundle, still lauding the value of the acquisition. When the package was paid for he suddenly stopped talking, and with a superior smile, bowing pleasantly while holding the door, he watched his customer depart, Monsieur Patissot, laden with bundles, trying in vain to raise his hat.
At home Patissot studied his map and tried on his ironclad boots which felt as heavy as skates. He slipped and fell, and vowed he would be more careful in the future. Then he laid out his purchases on a chair and contemplated them a long while, finally retiring to his bed, pondering: “How strange I never thought of taking outings before!”
II
Patissot’s First Outing
Monsieur Patissot worked listlessly during the whole week, dreaming of the outing he had planned for the following Sunday. He was seized with a sudden longing for the country, for green trees, and the desire for rustic scenes that comes to every Parisian in the springtime took possession of his whole being.
He retired early on Saturday night, and was up with the dawn.
His window opened on a dark and narrow courtyard, a sort of shaft, through which floated up all the different odors of the needy families below.
He immediately glanced at the small square of sky that appeared between the roofs, and saw that it
