"But who was Putois?" asked Pauline.
Instead of replying her father began to laugh, and Madmoiselle Bergeret also laughed, though her lips were closed.
Pauline looked first at one and then at the other. It seemed to her odd that her aunt should laugh so heartily, and odder still that she should laugh at the same thing as her brother, for strange to say the minds of the brother and the sister moved in different grooves.
"Tell me who Putois was, papa. Since you want me to know, tell me"
"Putois, my child, was a gardener. The son of honest farmers of Artois, he had set up as a nursery-man at Saint-Omer. But he was unable to please his customers and failed in business. He gave up his nursery and went out to work by the day. His employers were not always satisfied"
At these words, Madmoiselle Bergeret, still laughing, remarked:
"You remember, Lucien, when father couldn´t find his ink-pot, his pens, his sealing-wax or his scissors on his desk, how he used to say: "I think Putois must have been here..."
"Ah! , said Monsieur Bergeret, Putois had not a good reputation"
"Is that all?" asked Pauline.
"No, my child it is not all. There was something odd about Putois; we knew him, he was familiar to us and yet..." "He did not exist," said Zoé.
Monsieur Bergeret looked reproachfully at her.
"What a thing to say, Zoé! Why thus break the charm? Putois did not exist! Dare you say so, Zoé! Can you maintain it? Before affirming that Putois did not exist, that Putois never was, you should consider the condition of being and the modes of existence. Putois existed, sister. But it is true that his was a peculiar existence."
Putois - Anatole France
Instead of replying her father began to laugh, and Madmoiselle Bergeret also laughed, though her lips were closed.
Pauline looked first at one and then at the other. It seemed to her odd that her aunt should laugh so heartily, and odder still that she should laugh at the same thing as her brother, for strange to say the minds of the brother and the sister moved in different grooves.
"Tell me who Putois was, papa. Since you want me to know, tell me"
"Putois, my child, was a gardener. The son of honest farmers of Artois, he had set up as a nursery-man at Saint-Omer. But he was unable to please his customers and failed in business. He gave up his nursery and went out to work by the day. His employers were not always satisfied"
At these words, Madmoiselle Bergeret, still laughing, remarked:
"You remember, Lucien, when father couldn´t find his ink-pot, his pens, his sealing-wax or his scissors on his desk, how he used to say: "I think Putois must have been here..."
"Ah! , said Monsieur Bergeret, Putois had not a good reputation"
"Is that all?" asked Pauline.
"No, my child it is not all. There was something odd about Putois; we knew him, he was familiar to us and yet..." "He did not exist," said Zoé.
Monsieur Bergeret looked reproachfully at her.
"What a thing to say, Zoé! Why thus break the charm? Putois did not exist! Dare you say so, Zoé! Can you maintain it? Before affirming that Putois did not exist, that Putois never was, you should consider the condition of being and the modes of existence. Putois existed, sister. But it is true that his was a peculiar existence."
Putois - Anatole France
No hay comentarios.:
Publicar un comentario
Nota: sólo los miembros de este blog pueden publicar comentarios.