CHAPTER X.
You may imagine the state of excitement at the farm, the comings and goings of the servants, enthusiastic shouts of all, the clinkings of glasses, and clatterings of knives and forks, the joy painted on every face, when Jean-Claude, Doctor Lorquin, the Maternes, and all those who had followed Catherine's vehicle, were installed in the large house-room at the farm, around a magnificent ham, and had set steadily to work to celebrate their future triumphs cup in hand.
It chanced to be on a Tuesday, always a grand cooking day at the farm.
The great kitchen fire had been blazing since morning; old Duchêne, in his shirt-sleeves, was drawing from the oven innumerable manchets of bread, the good smell of which pervaded the whole house. Annette took them from his hands, and piled them up in a corner of the hearth. Louise waited on the guests, and Catherine Lefévre superintended everything, calling out as she did so:
"Make haste, children, make haste, the third batch must be ready by the time the men from the Sarre arrive. That will make six pounds of bread a man."
Hullin, from his place, watched the old farm-mistress as she came and went.
"What a woman!" he exclaimed, "what a woman! Go and find me such another the whole country round! She forgets nothing! The health of Catherine Lefévre!"
"The health of Catherine Lefévre!" was loudly responded by all the rest.
There was a renewed clinking of glasses, and then the talk fell again on marches, attacks, and entrenchments. Every one felt inspired by an invincible confidence; every one said to himself, "All will prosper."