half laughing, half angry, walks off, exclaiming, "_Eh bien! tant
mieux_! I've no mind to be a scarecrow--_moi_!"

By this time we have both had enough of the fair, and are glad to make
our way out of the crowd and down to the riverside. Here we find lovers
strolling in pairs along the towing-path; family groups pic-nicking in
the shade; boats and punts for hire, and a swimming-match just coming
off, of which all that is visible are two black heads bobbing up and
down along the middle of the stream.

"And now, _mon ami_, what do you vote for?" asks Müller. "Boating or
fishing? or both? or neither?"

"Both, if you like--but I never caught anything in my life,"

"The pleasure of fishing, I take it," says Müller, "is not in the fish
you catch, but in the fish you miss. The fish you catch is a poor little
wretch, worth neither the trouble of landing, cooking, nor eating; but
the fish you miss is always the finest fellow you ever saw in
your life!"

"_Allons donc_! I know, then, which of us two will have most of the
pleasure to-day," I reply, laughing. "But how about the expense?"

To which Müller, with a noble recklessness, answers:--

"Oh, hang the expense! Here, boatman! a boat _à quatre rames_, and some
fishing-tackle--by the hour."

Now it was undoubtedly a fine sentiment this of Müller's, and had we but