One afternoon I was walking through the Luxembourg Gardens looking at the daisies that clustered along the side of the path. I passed a lady and gallantly take my hat off. Then I put it back on. As I had nothing better to do, I started to put on and take off my hat alternately. It was an exercise like any other, I thought. Like someone lifting weights in the gym. In fact, the hat’s got some weight to it as it was lined with lead. I had it commissioned in this way to avoid being blown away by the wind. That’s the thing with top hats: that as soon as a wind gust comes, you see yourself running after them, with the bad effect that causes on the ladies. On the contrary, with this leaden hat well stuck in the head, you’re ready for a hurricane! I was thinking of this and, at the same time, the daisies on the path kept drawing my attention. My mind was divided between the hat and the daisies. And then, the remote possibility occurred to me that both elements would be exchanged. Thus, the side of the path would be full of hats and I would carry a bouquet of daisies on the head. Maybe, even I’d start a new fashion. The gallantry of gentlemen would be greatly increased, since, when crossing paths with a lady, instead of removing the hat, they would remove a daisy from his head to throw it to the lady, who would feel extremely flattered. Suddenly, I realized that I was about to cross paths with Madame Serignac. Without thinking, by pure automatism, I took off my hat and threw it in her face. When I noticed that it was not a daisy, it was too late. Madame Serignac lay on the ground, unconscious.