with another book, Vlacq's edition of 'Le Cuisinier Francois,' and
so went cheaper than it would otherwise have done. M. de Fontaine
de Resbecq declares that a friend of his bought six original pieces
of Moliere's bound up with an old French translation of Garth's
'Dispensary.' The one faint hope left to the poor book collector is
that he may find a valuable tract lurking in the leaves of some
bound collection of trash. I have an original copy of Moliere's
'Les Fascheux' bound up with a treatise on precious stones, but the
bookseller from whom I bought it knew it was there! That made all
the difference.

But, to return to our 'Pastissier,' here is M. de Fontaine de
Resbecq's account of how he wooed and won his own copy of this
illustrious Elzevir. "I began my walk to-day," says this haunter of
ancient stalls, "by the Pont Marie and the Quai de la Greve, the
pillars of Hercules of the book-hunting world. After having viewed
and reviewed these remote books, I was going away, when my attention
was caught by a small naked volume, without a stitch of binding. I
seized it, and what was my delight when I recognised one of the
rarest of that famed Elzevir collection whose height is measured as
minutely as the carats of the diamond. There was no indication of
price on the box where this jewel was lying; the book, though
unbound, was perfectly clean within. 'How much?' said I to the
bookseller. 'You can have it for six sous,' he answered; 'is it too
much?' 'No,' said I, and, trembling a little, I handed him the
thirty centimes he asked for the 'Pastissier Francois.' You may
believe, my friend, that after such a piece of luck at the start,
one goes home fondly embracing the beloved object of one's search.
That is exactly what I did."