This morning, as soon as they had recognised each other they shook hands warmly, quite overcome at meeting again under such different circumstances.
Monsieur Sauvage sighed and murmured, "A nice state of things."
Monsieur Morisot, gloomy and sad, answered, "And what weather! To-day is New Year's day." The sky in fact was clear, bright, and beautiful.
They began to walk along, sorrowful and pensive. Said Morisot, "And our fishing, eh? What times we used to have!"
Sauvage replied, "When shall we have them again?"
They went into a little "café" and had a glass of absinthe, and then started again on their walk.
They stopped at another "café" for another glass. When they came out again they were slightly dazed, like people who had fasted long and then partaken too freely.
It was lovely weather; a soft breeze fanned their faces. Monsieur Sauvage, upon whom the fresh air was beginning to take effect, suddenly said: "Suppose we were to go!"
"Go where?"
"Why, fishing!"