"Gaston de Stainville!" exclaimed the other gaily, "par tous les diables! but this is a surprise! Who would have thought to see you in this damned and God-forsaken hole!"
"The King's business, my good Mortémar," said Gaston, "and if you'll forgive me I'll see to it at once and then we'll sup together, eh? . . . Palsambleu! and I who thought I'd die of ennui during this enforced halt on this lonely shore."
"Ennui? perish the thought! Gentlemen," added the young Comte de Mortémar, with a graceful flourish of the arm which embraced the entire company, "allow me to present unto you the most accomplished cavalier of the day, whom I have the honour to call my friend, and whom I hope we will all have the honour to call our guest to-night, M. le Comte Gaston Amédé de Stainville."
Gaston had no cause now to complain of want of welcome. Once the stranger duly accredited and presented by a member of the intimate circle, he was cheered to the echo. Every one rose to greet him, many pressed forward to shake him by the hand: the presence of a cavalier of Versailles with all the Court gossip, the little intrigues, the laughable anecdotes which he would of necessity bring with him was indeed a veritable God-send to the little official world of Le Havre, who spent most of its life in mortal ennui.
"As for thee, my good Jean Marie," now interposed Mortémar with mock severity, "let me tell thee at once that if within an hour this table here doth not groan under the weight of the finest and best cooked capon that Normandy can produce, neither I nor these gentlemen here will e'er darken thy doors again. What say you, gentlemen?"
There was loudly expressed assent, accompanied by much laughter and vigorous clinking of pewter mugs against the deal tables.
"And in the meanwhile," continued Mortémar, who seemed to have taken the lead in this general desire to bid the visitor a substantial welcome, "a bowl of punch with half a glass of eau-de-vie and a dozen prunes soaked in kirsch therein. Never fear, friend Stainville," he added, slapping Gaston boisterously on the shoulder, "I tell you mine host knows how to brew a bowl of punch, which will send you reeling under one of his tables in less than half an hour."
A round of applause greeted this cheerful sally.
"Nay, in that case," said Gaston, on whom the strenuous fatigues of the day were telling severely after the preliminary excitement of arrival, "I'll to my business, ere your good cheer, friend, render me quite helpless."
"Perish the thought of business," retorted Mortémar. "Your head in a bucket of cold water after the punch, and you can meet the most astute notary on even ground and beat him at his own game. The punch, knave!" he shouted to the fat landlord, "the punch, this instant, M. le Comte de Stainville is wearied and is waiting for refreshment."