An old man, a shoemaker who once wore a pince-nez and carried a stick with a silver mounting because he wanted to look like a composer, tells the story of his life to six young, beautiful women basking in the sun. One drunken thought triggers another. Amorous conquests alternate with sundry mishaps and in the haphazard telling acquire the same weight and substance as earth-shattering events.

To say nothing of the historical perspective, which the self-styled "engineer of human feet" bends at random to suit his mood.