Indeed, I must confess that if it were not for the gentility of it I should have left the Department long ago.

I put on my old cloak, and took my umbrella, as it was raining hard. There was no one in the streets: only a woman pulling her skirt over her head, or a bearded merchant under his umbrella, or an office messenger, would meet my eye. Of the gentry I saw no one except one of ourselves, a government clerk. I saw him at a street corner. As soon as I saw him I said to myself: “Oho! Don’t tell me you are going to your Department, my dear fellow. You are running after that girl who walks in front of you, and enjoying the sight of her ankles.” What rascals we government clerks are! I’ll swear, each of us may give points to any officer: let a female in a hat pass, and he’ll be after her at once. As I was making these reflections, I saw a brougham drive up to the shop I was passing. I recognized it at once: it was the brougham of our Director. “But he cannot be going out shopping,” I thought, “it must be his daughter.” I flattened myself against the wall. The footman threw open the carriage door, and she fluttered out, like a bird. How she glanced to the right, and then to the left, how her eyes and eyebrows flashed past . . . Good God! I am done for, hopelessly done for! But why should she be going out in such rainy weather? Don’t go on telling me any more that women have not a boundless passion for all this frippery! She did not recognize me, and I did my best to muffle myself up, because I had a very dirty cloak on, and an old-fashioned one at that. Now cloaks are worn with long collars, while mine has short collars one above the other, and the cloth is not sponged. Her little dog, who was too late to get through the shop-door, was left in the street. I know the dog—her name is Madgie. Scarcely a minute passed before I heard a thin little voice: “Good morning, Madgie.” Upon my word! Who could that be speaking? I looked round and saw two ladies walking along under an umbrella, one old and the other young. They had passed me already; and again I heard beside me: “Fie, for shame, Madgie!” The devil! I saw Madgie sniffing at the dog that was following the two ladies. “Oho!” I said to myself. “Can it be I am drunk? That does not happen very often to me.” “No, Fidèle, you should not talk in that way,” said Madgie—I saw her say so with my own eyes. “I have been, wow, wow, I have been, wow, wow, very ill.” You rascal of a little dog! How do you do it! To say the truth, I was quite amazed to hear her talking human language; but on considering the matter I ceased to wonder. Indeed, a number of similar cases have been reported from different parts of the world. In England, I am told, a fish put its head out of the water and uttered two words in a language so strange that scholars have been busy three years trying to identify it, and have not yet come to a solution. I also read in the papers about two cows who came into a shop and asked for a pound of tea. But, I own, I was still more amazed when I heard Madgie say: “I wrote to you, Fidèle; Polkan must have forgotten to carry my letter!” The devil! Never in all my life did I hear of a dog being able to write. Only a gentleman can write correctly. To be sure, there are a few merchants and accountants, and even some of the servile class scribble sometimes; but their writing is for the most part merely mechanical: no commas, no stops, no style.

It amazed me. I must confess that for some time I have been seeing and hearing things such as no one has seen or heard before. “I will follow that dog,” I said to myself, “and see what sort she is and what her views are.” I opened my umbrella and started after the two ladies.