“Take care, Frantz, take care of what you are about!” he said to himself: “remember your high mission, and do not suffer yourself to be charmed by this seductive creature.”
But he felt an indescribable kind of thrill run down his spine, and dropped his eyelids in spite of himself.
Dame Catherina was radiant.
“How timid he is!” she said to herself; “how he blushes! Ah, if I could give him a little courage! No matter; he is still green—and he’s very well made. All will be right.”
At that moment Coucou Peter entered, carrying a dishful of smoking puddings, laughing heartily, and with the merriest face that ever was seen.
“Ah, Doctor Frantz!” he cried; “ah, Doctor Frantz, what a scent! What a taste! All blood, bacon-fat, and cream! Fancy, Papa Mathéus, I’ve already gobbled up one half an ell long, and that’s only given me an appetite!”
As he spoke he deposited his large dish upon the table, with an air of adoration; then, spreading himself against the wall, he untied his cravat, opened his waistcoat, undid the three top buttons of his breeches, to make himself quite at ease, and breathed a profound sigh.
Fat Soffayel followed him with plates, covers, and a big loaf of mixed wheat and rye, just out of the oven; she ranged all in neat order, and Coucou Peter, taking up a large horn-handled knife, cried—
“Now, Dame Windling, sit you down by the Doctor. Ha! ha! ha! A happy meeting!”
Then, turning up his sleeves, he sliced up the pudding, and, raising a piece on his long fork, placed it on Mathéus’s plate.