attentively. "And--is that good? Do you guarantee it?" "Oh!
certainly, monsieur, it is quite goad! But, of course, you must not get
it wet! Yes, it's really quite good, but you understand that there are
goods and goods. It's excellent for the price. Twelve francs fifty, just
think. Why, that's nothing at all. Naturally a twenty-five-franc coat is
much better. For twenty-five francs you get a superior quality, as strong
as linen, and which wears even better. If it gets wet a little ironing
will fix it right up. The color never fades, and it does not turn red in
the sunlight. It is the warmest and lightest material out." He unfolded
his wares, holding them up, shaking them, crumpling and stretching them
in order to show the excellent quality of the cloth. He talked on
convincingly, dispelling all hesitation by words and gesture. Patissot
was convinced; he bought the coat. The pleasant salesman, still talking,
tied up the bundle and continued praising the value of the purchase. When
it was paid for he was suddenly silent. He bowed with a superior air,
and, holding the door open, he watched his customer disappear, both arms
filled with bundles and vainly trying to reach his hat to bow.

M. Patissot returned home and carefully studied the map. He wished to try
on his shoes, which were more like skates than shoes, owing to the
spikes. He slipped and fell, promising himself to be more careful in the
future. Then he spread out all his purchases on a chair and looked at
them for a long time. He went to sleep with this thought: "Isn't it
strange that I didn't think before of taking an excursion to the
country?"

During the whole week Patissot worked without ambition. He was dreaming
of the outing which he had planned for the following Sunday, and he was
seized by a sudden longing for the country, a desire of growing tender
over nature, this thirst for rustic scenes which overwhelms the Parisians