Laguitte chuckled but did not answer. Then the others began to chaff him about Melanie, and he took their remarks good-naturedly, simply shrugging his shoulders. The widow was undoubtedly a fine woman, however much people might talk. Some of those who disparaged her would, in reality, be only too pleased to win her good graces. Then turning to the little counter and assuming an engaging air, he shouted:
“Three more glasses, madame.”
Melanie was so taken aback that she rose and brought the beer herself. The major detained her at the table and forgot himself so far as to softly pat the hand which she had carelessly placed on the back of a chair. Used as she was to alternate brutality and flattery, she immediately became confident, believing in a sudden whim of gallantry on the part of the “old wreck,” as she was wont to style the major when talking with Phrosine. Doucet and Morandot looked at each other in surprise. Was the major actually stepping into Petticoat Burle’s shoes? The regiment would be convulsed if that were the case.
Suddenly, however, Laguitte, who kept his eye on the square, gave a start.
“Hallo, there’s Burle!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, it is his time,” explained Phrosine. “The captain passes every afternoon on his way from the office.”
In spite of his lameness the major had risen to his feet, pushing aside the chairs as he called out: “Burle! I say—come along and have a glass.”
The captain, quite aghast and unable to understand why Laguitte was at the widow’s, advanced mechanically. He was so perplexed that he again hesitated at the door.
“Another glass of beer,” ordered the major, and then turning to Burle, he added, “What’s the matter with you? Come in. Are you afraid of being eaten alive?”
The captain took a seat, and an awkward pause followed. Melanie, who brought the beer with trembling hands, dreaded some scene which might result in the closing of her establishment. The major’s gallantry made her uneasy, and she endeavored to slip away, but he invited her to drink with them, and before she could refuse he had ordered Phrosine to bring a liqueur glass of anisette, doing so with as much coolness as if he had been master of the house. Melanie was thus compelled to sit down between the captain and Laguitte, who exclaimed aggressively: “I WILL have ladies respected. We are French officers! Let us drink Madame’s health!”