But all her calling out was of no avail; the two rivals were engaged, beak to beak, with bristling neck-feathers, springing one above the other, pecking viciously, turning, leaping, and pursuing one another with incredible fury; fortunately a fresh handful of grain caused the two to suspend the battle.
“Strange!” murmured Mathéus, “that these gallinaceous animals, usually so timid, are sometimes animated by the most ferocious instincts! What cannot the furious and sanguinary passion of jealousy do!”
Mother Windling, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, thought: “Poor dear man, you are thinking of Tapihans! But you have nothing to fear. No, no! the fellow is too much of a coward ever to come to the house again.” At last, emptying her apron, and looking at Mathéus with a tender smile, she asked—
“Are you fond of eggs, Doctor?”
“Very, my dear madam—most of all when boiled in the shell; they are then a wholesome and delicate food.”
“Then we’ll go at once and pick them up; there are sure to be enough for your breakfast.”
Without the least ceremony or hesitation she climbed up the ladder, and though the illustrious philosopher had rapidly turned his head, he could not avoid seeing the plump widow’s blue stockings, through which her sturdy calves were very vigorously indicated.
Dame Catherina slipped into the fowl-loft through a door under the pent roof, and reappeared radiant with satisfaction, bringing with her a dozen eggs, which she displayed triumphantly.
“See here!” she cried, standing at the top of the ladder; “well, I’ve every day as many. What eggs!—not a hen in the village lays such beauties! Help me, Doctor—I daren’t come down alone.”
The good man was obliged to steady the foot of the ladder and lend his hands to Dame Catherina, who laughed, pretended to be afraid, and all the time seemed quite at her ease. Mathéus was as red as a raspberry.