The fat gentleman declared that he would only eat at the Elms, because it was an excellent place and the cooking was as good as in the best restaurants in Paris.

“Do as you wish,” declared Boivin; “I am going where I am accustomed to go.”  He left.  Patissot, displeased at his friend’s actions, followed the fat gentleman.

They ate together, exchanged ideas, discussed opinions and found that they were made for each other.

After the meal everyone started to fish again, but the two new friends left together.  Following along the banks, they stopped near the railroad bridge and, still talking, they threw their lines in the water.  The fish still refused to bite, but Patissot was now making the best of it.

A family was approaching.  The father, whose whiskers stamped him as a judge, was holding an extraordinarily long rod; three boys of different sizes were carrying poles of different lengths, according to age; and the mother, who was very stout, gracefully manoeuvred a charming rod with a ribbon tied to the handle.  The father bowed and asked: 

“Is this spot good, gentlemen?” Patissot was going to speak, when his friend answered:  “Fine!” The whole family smiled and settled down beside the fishermen.  The Patissot was seized with a wild desire to catch a fish, just one, any kind, any size, in order to win the consideration of these people; so he began to handle his rod as he had seen Boivin do in the morning.  He would let the cork follow the current to the end of the line, jerk the hooks out of the water, make them describe a large circle in the air and throw them out again a little higher up.  He had even, as he thought, caught the knack of doing this movement gracefully.  He had just jerked his line out rapidly when he felt it caught in something behind him.  He tugged, and a scream burst from behind him.  He perceived, caught on one of his hooks, and describing in the air a curve like a meteor, a magnificent hat which he placed right in the middle of the river.

He turned around, bewildered, dropping his pole, which followed the hat down the stream, while the fat gentleman, his new friend, lay on his back and roared with laughter.  The lady, hatless and astounded, choked with anger; her husband was outraged and demanded the price of the hat, and Patissot paid about three times its value.

Then the family departed in a very dignified manner.

Patissot took another rod, and, until nightfall, he gave baths to sand worms.  His neighbor was sleeping peacefully on the grass.  Toward seven in the evening he awoke.

“Let’s go away from here!” he said.

Then Patissot withdrew his line, gave a cry and sat down hard from astonishment.  At the end of the string was a tiny little fish.  When they looked at him more closely they found that he had been hooked through the stomach; the hook had caught him as it was being drawn out of the water.