"My dear compatriot, I have only a few hours to pass in the place where I was born, and I must devote most of them to my relatives in the neighboring villages; if the friendship which exists between us should lead me to neglect them, you would be the first to blame me, and you would be right. You have come to invite me to a dinner and a ball, and, although I have not been in the habit of indulging in those pleasures lately, I should be delighted to participate in them. I should be pleased to drink a few glasses of our excellent new wine in such good company, and to watch the young girls of Arbois dancing; they must be very pretty, if they resemble their mothers. But a soldier has only his word, and I swear to you, on my honor, that I am engaged. Long ago I promised Barbier, the vine-dresser, to take my first meal with him when next I should come here, and I cannot in conscience eat two dinners between now and sunset."
"But," said the president, "it seems to me that there is a way of compromising the difficulty."
"What is it?"
"To invite Barbier to dine with us."
"If you do that, and he accepts, I shall ask nothing better," said Pichegru. "But I doubt if he will. Does he still have that same fierce and melancholy air which won him the name of Barbier the Desperate?"
"More than ever, general."
"Well, I will go and find him myself," said Pichegru, "for I think nothing short of my influence will induce him to dine with us."
"Very well, general, we will accompany you," said the deputies.
"Come along," said Pichegru.
And they went in search of Barbier the Desperate, a poor vine-dresser, who owned only a hundred vines, and who watered with their produce his poor crust of black bread.