"Good-day, Father Dubreuil," said the two youths in a gruff voice.
"Good-day, my brave fellows," replied the innkeeper, trying to smile.
Then, in an oily voice, he asked them, "Nothing new?"
"Faith, no!" replied Kasper; "here is winter, the time for hunting boars."
And they both, putting their carbines in the corner of the window, within reach, in case of attack, passed one leg across the bench, and sat down, facing their father, who was at the head of the table.
At the same time they drank, saying, "To our healths!" which they were always very careful to do.
"Thus," said Materne, turning to the fat man, as though taking up the threads of an interrupted conversation, "you think, Father Dubreuil, that we have nothing to fear from the wood of Baronies, and that we may hunt boar peaceably?"
"Oh, as to that, I know nothing!" exclaimed the innkeeper; "only at present the allies have not passed Mutzig. Besides, they harm no one; they receive all well-disposed people to fight against the usurper."
"The usurper? Who is he?"
"Why, Napoleon Bonaparte, the usurper, to be sure. Just look at the wall."