"And I will take care that you have all your little luxuries, your coffee, and your glass, and your four sous' worth of tobacco; everything you wish for, in fact."
It was too tempting, and the old man began to feel alarmed. Certainly, things were getting bad at Hyacinthe's, but what if there should be a repetition of the old goings-on when he got back to the Buteaus' again?
"Well, we must see," was all he said; and then he got up, anxious to bring the conversation to a close.
The vintaging lasted until night-fall; the carts incessantly carrying off the grape-laden casks, and bringing them back empty. Under the wide expanse of rosy sky, among the vines gilded by the setting sun, the flitting of the baskets, large and small, became brisker, each worker being excited by the intoxicating effects of all these grapes that were carried to and fro. Berthe now had a misfortune. She was seized with such a sharp and sudden attack of colic that she was not able to run off, and her mother and Lequeu were obliged to form a rampart round her with their bodies, while she relieved herself amongst the stakes. The vintagers in the adjoining plot observed what was happening, and Victor and Delphin wanted to take her some paper. But Flore and Madame Bécu restrained them, saying that there were limits which only ill-bred persons would out-step.
At last they all set off home again. The Delhommes led the way; La Grande forced Hilarion to help the horse in pulling the cart along; and the Lengaignes and the Macquerons fraternised together in a maudlin, tipsy tenderness which made them forget their rivalry. What attracted most attention on the return home was the mutual politeness of the Abbé Madeline and Suzanne. The priest, seeing how well the girl was dressed, took her for a lady, and they walked along side by side, the Abbé showing her every attention, while she put on her sweetest manners, and inquired at what time mass was celebrated on Sunday. Behind them came Hyacinthe, who, in his hatred of priests, recommenced his disgusting tricks, determined in his tipsy obstinacy to have a spree. At every five yards he lifted up his leg and let fly. That hussy Suzanne bit her lips to keep from laughing, while the priest pretended not to hear; and gravely exchanging pious remarks they walked on behind the file of vintage carts, escorted by this disgusting music.
At last, as they were nearing Rognes, Buteau and Fouan, who felt quite ashamed of Hyacinthe, made an attempt to silence him. But he still persisted in continuing his tricks, and protested that his reverence was quite under a mistake if he felt in any way hurt.
"Don't I tell you that I mean no offence to any one, and that I am simply doing it for my own amusement?" he repeated.
The following week the Buteaus invited their friends to come and taste the new wine. Monsieur and Madame Charles, Fouan, Hyacinthe, and some four or five others were to meet at seven o'clock and partake of some leg of mutton, nuts, and cheese—a real repast, in fact. During the day Buteau had barrelled his wine. There were six casks of it, full to the bung. Some of his neighbours, however, were not so far advanced in their operations. One of them, who was still vintaging, had been hard at work all the morning treading his grapes in a state of complete nudity; another, armed with a bar, was watching the fermentation, and beating down the stalks and skins that rose to the surface of the bubbling must; a third, who had a press, squeezed the grape skins in it, and then threw them into his yard in a reeking heap. Scenes like these were going on in every house; and from the burning vats, the streaming presses, the overflowing casks, indeed from all Rognes there arose the fumes of the wine, which were so strong as to suffice to make every one intoxicated.
Just before leaving the Château that day, Fouan was seized with a vague presentiment, which induced him to remove his papers from their hiding-place beneath the lentils in the pan. He thought it as well to conceal them about his person, for he fancied he had detected Hyacinthe and La Trouille looking up into the air with a meaning expression. They all three set out, and arrived at the Buteaus' house at the same time as Monsieur and Madame Charles.
The full moon was so large and bright that it gave almost as much light as the sun; and as Fouan entered the yard, where one could have seen well enough to pick up a pin, he observed that Gédéon, the donkey, was in the outhouse, with his head inside a bucket. Fouan was not much surprised to see him at liberty, for he was a very cunning fellow, and frequently raised the latch with his mouth. The bucket, however, excited the old man's curiosity, and, going up to it, he recognised it as one of the buckets used in the cellar, which had contained some wine from the press, left after Buteau had finished filling the casks. That cursed Gédéon was emptying it.