'Well, well, these are not things to talk about,' resumed Fouchard, prudently. 'Here's to your health, and good-evening!'
They finished emptying the second bottle. Silvine had already stowed the bread away in a sack; and Prosper, who had now returned from the stable, helped to hoist it on to the barrow in place of the two dead sheep. However, he turned his back without so much as answering when his brother and the others went off, disappearing with the barrow through the snow, and repeating: 'Good-night, everyone—to the pleasure of meeting again.'
The very next day, whilst old Fouchard was sitting alone after breakfast, he saw Goliath himself walk in, tall and fat, with the same pink face and quiet smile as formerly. If the old man was startled by this sudden apparition, at all events he did not allow it to be seen, but sat there blinking, whilst the other stepped forward and gave him a fair and square shake of the hand. 'Good day to you, father Fouchard!'
Not till then did the old fellow appear to recognise his visitor. 'Hallo! is it you, my lad! Why, you've grown even bigger than you were. How fat you are!'
And thereupon he scanned him from head to foot. Clad in a kind of capote of thick blue cloth, with a cap of the same material on his head, Goliath had the prosperous appearance of a man well pleased with himself. He spoke without any foreign accent, in the drawling fashion of the peasants of the district: 'Why, yes, it's I, father Fouchard—I didn't like to pass this way without bidding you good-day.'
The old man remained mistrustful. What was the real motive of this fellow's visit? Had he heard of the Francs-tireurs coming to the farm on the previous evening? That was a point to be ascertained. At all events, however, since the scamp had presented himself in a polite fashion, the best policy was to give him an equally polite greeting.
'Well, my lad, it's very kind of you, I'm sure, and as you've come we'll drink a glass together.'
He went in person to fetch a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine. The consumption of so much liquor made his heart fairly bleed; but then in business it was necessary to stand treat. And, now, much the same scene as that of the previous evening was enacted: they chinked glasses with similar gestures and similar words.
'To your health, father Fouchard.'
'Here's to yours, my lad!'