"That's because you speak harshly to them, my friend! You always have insults and threats on your lips! Ten thousand devils! as my wife has often told you, you lack tact. Where is this damned hostess? summon her, and let me restore courage to her belly with a cuff or two!"
Walking heavily to the stairs, he called Madame Pignoux, heaping the coarsest epithets upon her, apparently to set his lieutenant an example of mildness and courtesy.
This whole conversation was carried on in French.
Macabre, who was of German descent, was born at Bourges and had passed his early youth in Berry. Except for a somewhat extended vocabulary for use in his military capacity, he spoke the language of his fathers with difficulty and without pleasure. The Italian Saccage murdered French with more facility than German. Thus they had difficulty in understanding each other when they spoke the latter tongue, and moreover they considered themselves so entirely masters of the situation that they scorned to take any precautions before Mario and the people of the house. Mario, who had taken a great risk when he tried to make the reitres retrace their steps, and who was likely to be contradicted at any moment by some genuine messenger from Sancho or La Flèche, realized that it would be too audacious for him to insist for the moment. He feigned indifference and preoccupation as he laid the table, but did not lose a word of what the two adventurers said to each other.
It was quite true that Sancho had promised to send a messenger to Etalié, which he had designated as the last halting-place of the reitres. But that messenger, who was a gypsy like the rest, and who hoped that the château of Briantes might be taken and pillaged without the aid of the Germans, had no idea of doing the errand, but went in search of plunder in the deserted village, pending the time fixed for the assault upon the manor by his companions.
The hostess, in obedience to Macabre's polite summons, came upstairs and faced him bravely.
"What is the use of big words, Captain Macabre?" said she, putting her arms akimbo. "We know each other of old, and I know very well that you will pay your reckoning and that of your devils of lansquenets[8] with oaths and destruction of property. I don't receive you for my own pleasure, and I know very well that it is more likely to be for my ruin. But I am a reasonable woman and no more foolish than another. So I face ill fortune with a stout heart and serve you to the best of my ability, in order to escape bad treatment and be rid of your faces the sooner. If you are at all reasonable yourself, captain, you will say to yourself that you had better not injure me to no purpose, but let me alone, and remember that I know how to fry and roast as well as another."
"In God's name, who are you, old chatterbox?" said the captain, trying to turn his stiff neck in its iron gorget, in order to look at Madame Pignoux.
"My maiden name was Marie Mouton, and I was your cantinière during the siege of Sancerre; and one day I fricasseed a stale crust for you and you smacked your lips over it."
"That may be; I remember the crust, which was good, but not you, who are ugly. But if you have served the good cause, I forgive your chatter."