Knowing that every morning provisions were carried to Peyrou, Hadji, who had been watching some hours for the purveyor, employed, as we have said, this stratagem to make him abandon his basket.
The Bohemian opened the bottle-case carefully provided by the majordomo Laramée, took out a large bottle covered with straw, and poured in it a small quantity of a white powder,—a powerful soporific, whose effects had already been felt by the worthy Luquin Trinquetaille.
The Bohemian had lived for two days on the small amount of food he had carried away from Maison-Forte; but, fearing to excite suspicion, he had the courage not to touch the appetising viands intended for the watchman. He restored the bottle to its place and disappeared.
The child, after having searched for the stray dog in vain, returned, took up his basket, and finally arrived at the summit of the promontory.
Master Peyrou passed for such a formidable, mysterious being, that his young purveyor did not dare say a word about the cries of the dog; he deposited the basket on the edge of the last stone of the steps, and saying, in a trembling voice, “The good God keep you, Master Peyrou,” descended as fast as his legs could carry him, holding his cap in both hands.
The watchman smiled at the child’s fear, rose from his seat, went for the basket, and set it down near him. The provisions inside smacked of the Christmas festivity.
First, there was a very fine roast turkey, a necessary dish at the solemn feast of Christmas; then a cold fish pie, some honey cakes and oil, and a basket of grapes and dried fruit done up in the style of a Christmas present; finally, two loaves of white bread with a golden brown crust, and a large bottle, containing at least two pints of the finest Burgundy wine from the cellar of Raimond V., completed his repast.
The good watchman, lonely philosopher as he was, did not appear insensible to these good things. He entered his house, took his little table, set it before his door, and there placed his preparations for his Christmas feast. Yet he was saddened by melancholy thoughts.
By the unusual clouds of smoke rising above the town of La Ciotat, it could be seen that the inhabitants, rich or poor, were making joyous preparations to unite family and friends at their tables. The watchman sighed as he thought of the exile which he had imposed upon himself. Already old, without relatives and family ties, he was liable to die on this rock, in the midst of this imposing solitude.
Another cause brought sadness to the heart of Peyrou. He had vainly hoped to signal the arrival of the commander’s galley. He knew with what joy Raimond V. would have embraced his two brothers, especially at this season, and he also knew that the gloomy sadness of Pierre des Anbiez found some relief, some consolation in the midst of sweet family happiness and festivity.