"Well, if I could procure such a book for my dear uncle, I am sure he would be most grateful to me." "Monsieur," said my neighbour, "I doubt if, in spite of the sentiments which do a nephew's heart the greatest credit, you could procure this book." "Why not?" "Because it is exceedingly rare." "That little old book exceedingly rare?" "Do you not know that it is an Elzevir, monsieur?" "No." "Do you not know what an Elzevir is?" exclaimed my neighbour, overwhelmed with astonishment. "No, monsieur, no; but do not be alarmed at such a trifle: since I came to Paris not quite a week ago, I have discovered that I am ignorant of nearly everything. Tell me what it is, please: I am not well enough off to afford myself masters, I am too old to go back to college and I have made up my mind to take _the whole world_ as my teacher--a teacher whom report says is even more learned than Voltaire." "Ah! ah! quite right, monsieur," said my neighbour, looking at me with some interest; "and if you profit by the lessons that teacher will give you, you will become a great philosopher, as well as a great savant. Well, what is an Elzevir?... First of all, and in particular, this little volume that you see is one; or, in general, every book that came from the establishment of Louis Elzevir and of his successors, booksellers of Amsterdam. But do you know what a bibliomaniac is?" "I do not know Greek, monsieur." "You know your ignorance and that is something. The bibliomaniac--root, βιβλιο, book; μανια, madness--is a variety of the species man--_species bipes et genus homo._" "I understand." "This animal has two legs and is featherless, wanders usually up and down the quays and the boulevards, stopping at all the old bookstalls, turning over every book on them; he is habitually clad in a coat that is too long for him and trousers that are too short; he always wears on his feet shoes that are down at the heel, a dirty hat on his head, and, under his coat, and over his trousers, a waistcoat fastened together with string. One of the signs by which he can be recognised is that he never washes his hands." "But you are describing a perfectly disgusting animal. I hope the race does not consist entirely of specimens like that, and that there are exceptions." "Yes, but these exceptions are rare. Well, what this creature is in particular quest after, among the old shopkeepers and on the old bookstalls,--for you know that all animals hunt for something or other,--is for Elzevirs." "Are they hard to find?" "Yes, more and more difficult every day." "And how can Elzevirs be recognised?... Pray remember, monsieur, that you are not risking anything by instructing me; I do not ever expect to become a bibliomaniac, and my questions are solely out of curiosity."