"Most assuredly. That rascal of an Olivier is a great Bonapartist, you know. He cannot forgive any one for detesting that odious tyrant, and I took your part, for I, too, abhor the tyrant—that vile Corsican ogre!"
"Corsican ogre! You are a man after my own heart, monsieur. Let us shake hands—we understand each other," cried the housekeeper, triumphantly.
And she extended her bony hand to Gerald, who shook it heartily, at the same time remarking to the commander:
"Upon my word, sir, you had better take care, and you, too, Olivier, will have to look out now. Madame Barbançon had no one to help her before, now she will have a sturdy auxiliary in me."
"Look here, Madame Barbançon," exclaimed Olivier, coming to the rescue of his friend whom the housekeeper seemed inclined to monopolise, "Gerald must be nearly famished, you forget that. Come, I'll help you bring the table out here."
"True, I had forgotten all about dinner," cried the housekeeper, hastening towards the house.
Seeing Olivier start after her, as if to aid her, Gerald said:
"Wait a moment, my dear fellow, do you suppose I'm going to leave all the work to you?"
Then turning to the commander:
"You don't object, I trust, commander. I am making very free, I know, but when we were in the army together Olivier and I set the mess-table more than once, so you will find that I'm not as awkward as you might suppose."