‘I know that thing; I’ve eaten it at Vasna. It’s first-rate.’
And he looked round at the bystanders with an air of humorous mockery which was meant to convey:
‘You’ve never been out of your hole, you people.’
One more story of him, to have done. A woman living in his neighbourhood had been, by the doctor’s advice, to take the sea-baths at Cette. She returned from her trip bringing with her a curious thing, a strange fruit on which she based high hopes. When held to the ear and shaken, it rattled, proving that it contained seeds. It was round and prickly. At one end was a sort of bud, closed with a little white flower; at the other, a slight cavity was pierced with a few holes.
The neighbour ran round to Favier to show him her find and asked him to mention it to me. She would make me a present of the precious seeds, the idea being that some wonderful shrub would grow from them and beautify my garden.
‘Vaqui la flou, vaqui lou pécou: here is the [[327]]flower, here is the tail.’ she said, showing Favier the two ends of her fruit.
Favier roared with laughter:
‘It’s a Sea-urchin.’ he said, ‘a Sea-chestnut; I’ve eaten them at Constantinople!’
And he explained as best he could what a Sea-urchin is. The woman did not understand a word of what he said and persisted in her contention. She was convinced that Favier was deceiving her, jealous at the thought that such precious seeds should reach me through any other intermediary than him. The issue was submitted to me.
‘Vaqui la flou, vaqui lou pécou,’ repeated the good woman.