It is an old saying that oil will make troubled waters still. But old sayings are not always true. This particular saying proved false, for, when the Bunmakers received Forgier's oil, it only set their water on fire. "Come here, sirrah!" shouted Marquet, the chief Bunmaker, to Forgier, "and I will give you your buns."
Forgier, being a very worthy, unsuspecting fellow, came near with his money in his hand, like an honest man, thinking all the time that Marquet really would let him have the buns, in spite of his rough voice and sneering tones. What did Marquet do but, with his long whip, cut the good Forgier about his body and legs so as to make him dance more nimbly than he had ever danced before! After that, Marquet got a little frightened and wanted to slip away; but Forgier, while he was bawling for everybody to come to his rescue, took from under his arm a big cudgel, with which he hit the bad Bunmaker such a blow on his head as to make him fall from his horse more like a dead man than a living one.
But this was not the end. The good Shepherds, hearing Forgier's cries for help, rushed from their grape-vines to the white, dusty road, holding their poles in their hands ready to avenge their comrade. The Bunmakers, peppery as they might be, were just then trying to get off as fast as their horses could carry their carts away; but they were not fast enough to prevent the Shepherds from taking from them four or five dozen delicious buns, for which they offered, like honest men, to pay the usual price. But the Bunmakers were in too great a hurry for that. They laughed angrily at all these offers, and bore Marquet's body, in a dead faint, away with them.
And this was how the great and bloody war between the Bunmakers of Lerne and Gargantua's country began.
The first thing the Bunmakers did, on getting safe home at Lerne, even before taking a bit of food or a sup of wine, was to hasten to the palace, where, bowing low before their King Picrochole, they spread out their broken baskets, torn robes, crushed buns, and, at last, with a grand flourish, displayed Marquet himself all covered with dry blood, and groaning dreadfully.
"Who has dared do this?" shouted King Picrochole, getting very red in the face.
THE ANGER OF PICROCHOLE.
"The Shepherds and vine-watchers of that old Giant Grandgousier, may it please Your Majesty," answered the Bunmakers.
"Oh! oh! oh!" roared Picrochole furiously.