PIERRE [a tall, thin peasant, embarrassed by his coffee cup, speaks aside to Laurent in a strong provincial accent] A fine thing, ain’t it, to be so rich and not have enough tables to go round.
LAURENT [formerly a working man, to Pierre Poiret] At lunch ’twas just the same.
JACQUES [a crafty farmer, putting his cup down upon the centre table, and speaking generally] As for me, I—
LAURENT [passing his cup to Jacques] M. le maire, would you mind?
PIERRE [the same] M. le maire, would you—?
They get rid of their cups, passing them from one to the other.
BRIGNAC [to the mayors] Will you take liqueurs? [He points to a bottle and small glasses on a tray].
ALL THREE [making too much fuss about it] Thank you, thank you, M. le sous-préfet.
BRIGNAC. Delighted. [He passes behind the centre table and pours out liqueur].