Putois

Putois, by Anatole France

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Title: Putois 1907
Author: Anatole France
Release Date: October 27, 2007 [EBook #23219]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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Produced by David Widger

PUTOIS
By Anatole France
Translated by William Patten.
Copyright, 1907, by P. F. Collier & Son.

Dedicated to Georges Brandes

I
This garden of our childhood, said Monsieur Bergeret, this garden that
one could pace off in twenty steps, was for us a whole world, full of
smiles and surprises.
"Lucien, do you recall Putois?" asked Zoe, smiling as usual, the lips
pressed, bending over her work.
"Do I recall Putois! Of all the faces I saw as a child that of Putois
remains the clearest in my remembrance. All the features of his face
and his character are fixed in my mind. He had a pointed cranium..."
"A low forehead," added Mademoiselle Zoe.
And the brother and sister recited alternately, in a monotonous voice,
with an odd gravity, the points in a sort of description:
"A low forehead."
"Squinting eyes."
"A shifty glance."
"Crow's-feet at the temples."
"The cheek-bones sharp, red and shining."
"His ears had no rims to them."
"The features were devoid of all expression."
"His hands, which were never still, alone expressed his meaning."
"Thin, somewhat bent, feeble in appearance..."

"In reality he was unusually strong."
"He easily bent a five-franc piece between the first finger and the
thumb..."
"Which was enormous."
"His voice was drawling..."
"And his speech mild."
Suddenly Monsieur Bergeret exclaimed: "Zoe! we have forgotten
'Yellow hair and sparse beard.' Let us begin all over again."
Pauline, who had listened with astonishment to this strange recital,
asked her father and aunt how they had been able to learn by heart this
bit of prose, and why they recited it as if it were a litany.
Monsieur Bergeret gravely answered:
"Pauline, what you have heard is a text, I may say a liturgy, used by the
Bergeret family. It should be handed down to you so that it may not
perish with your aunt and me. Your grandfather, my daughter, your
grandfather, Eloi Bergeret, who was not amused with trifles, thought
highly of this bit, principally because of its origin. He called it 'The
Anatomy of Putois.' And he used to say that he preferred, in certain
respects, the anatomy of Putois to the anatomy of Quaresmeprenant. 'If
the description by Xenomanes,' he said, 'is more learned and richer in
unusual and choice expressions, the description of Putois greatly
surpasses it in clarity and simplicity of style.' He held this opinion
because Doctor Ledouble, of Tours, had not yet explained chapters
thirty, thirty-one, and thirty-two of the fourth book of Rabelais."
"I do not understand at all," said Pauline.
"That is because you did not know Putois, my daughter. You must
understand that Putois was the most familiar figure in my childhood
and in that of your Aunt Zoe. In the house of your grandfather Bergeret

we constantly spoke of Putois. Each believed that he had seen him."
Pauline asked:
"Who was this Putois?"
Instead of replying, Monsieur Bergeret commenced to laugh, and
Mademoiselle Bergeret also laughed, her lips pressed tight together.
Pauline looked from one to the other. She thought it strange that her
aunt should laugh so heartily, and more strange that she should laugh
with and in sympathy with her brother. It was indeed singular, as the
brother and sister were quite different in character.
"Papa, tell me what was Putois? Since you wish me to know, tell me."
"Putois, my daughter, was a gardener. The son of honest
market-gardeners, he set up for himself as nurseryman at Saint-Omer.
But he did not satisfy his customers and got in a bad way. Having given
up business, he went out by the day. Those who employed him could
not always congratulate themselves."
At this, Mademoiselle Bergeret, laughing, rejoined;
"Do you recall, Lucien, when our father could not find his ink, his pens,
his sealing-wax, his scissors, he said: 'I suspect Putois has been here'?"
"Ah!" said Monsieur Bergeret, "Putois had not a good reputation."
"Is that all?" asked Pauline.
"No, my daughter, it is not all. Putois was remarkable in this, that while
we knew him and were familiar with him, nevertheless--"
"--He did not exist," said Zoe.
Monsieur Bergeret looked at his sister with an air of reproach.
"What a speech, Zoe! and why break the charm like that? Do you