The humorist mystified

Alphonse Allais was, as we know, a great mystifier. But he found his master in the person of the owner of a café in Montmartre, where he liked to frequent.

One fine day, as soon as the master humorist had sat down, the lemonade seller came forward and said to him with a smile:

— "How are you, Mr. Allais? Don't pay attention, I can't help but twist myself. I received a letter from my son who is in the regiment..." (pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket). Well! you have no equal for funny ideas... but I bet you won't guess how that fellow writes the word: "fusil"?
"The word fusil?"
"Yes, that simple word. I'll give you six times to guess. The loser will buy the champagne for everyone present."
"Six times? Understood," said Alphonse Allais, sure of himself. Your son writes fusil: f-u-s-i.
— No.
— F-u-z-i.
— No.
— F-u-s-y, F-u-z-i,
— No.
— Good. Then, f-u-z-i-l:
— No more.
— P-h-u-s-i?
— No more. But you only have one more time to find it. Be careful.
The author, very vexed, thought for a long time, then cried out:
— I'm there! He writes: p-h-u-s-y.
— You've lost, replied the lemonade seller, pointing to the word in question in the letter. My son writes f-u-s-i-l
Alphonse Allais, hearing the countless bursts of laughter, turned around to count the people present... Horror... The lemonade seller had given the word to the whole neighborhood so that in a few minutes his establishment was filled to bursting.
The hoax cost Alphonse Allais 48 bottles of champagne