"Funny thing Buteau hasn't turned up," he said.
"Here he is, pat!" said Fouan.
And, indeed, Buteau now came in, but all by himself, and Jean's face grew still darker. The other strolled round the tavern, shaking hands; then, on reaching his father and brother-in-law's table, he stood there, refusing to sit down or to take anything.
"Lise and Françoise don't dance, then?" Jean finally asked, in a faltering voice.
Buteau looked at him hard out of his little grey eyes.
"Françoise has gone to bed," he replied; "it's the best place for young folks."
An incident near them now attracted their attention, and cut the conversation short. It was Hyacinthe at loggerheads with Flore, whom he had asked for a quart of rum to make some punch, and who refused to bring it.
"No! No more! You're drunk enough."
"Hallo! what's that she's saying? Do you fancy that I sha'n't pay? Why, I'll buy up your whole shanty, if you like. I've merely to blow my nose. Here! Look at this!"