THE SUPPER.
The young men examined the adventurer with a surprise that they tried in vain to conceal, and which, spite of themselves, was reflected on their faces.
Raimbaut, aided by Lanca Ibarru, brought in a ready-laid table, which he placed before don Adolfo.
"By Jove, gentlemen!" the adventurer said gaily, "Master Raimbaut has had the charming attention to lay covers for three, evidently foreseeing that you would not refuse to keep me company; forget your thoughts for a moment, then, I beg, and come to table."
"Most willingly," they replied, as they took the seat by his side.
The meal began; don Adolfo ate with good appetite while talking with a humour and quickness they had never noticed in him before. He was inexhaustible; it was a rolling fire of sallies, witticisms, and neatly told anecdotes that poured from his lips. The young men looked at each other, for they did not at all comprehend this singular temper; for, in spite of the gaiety of his remarks and his easiness of manner, the adventurer's brow remained thoughtful, and his face retained its habitual coldly sarcastic expression. Still, excited by this most communicative gaiety, they soon forgot all their anxieties, and allowed themselves to be won by this apparently so frank joy, ere a contest of laughter and merry remarks was mingled with the clink of glasses and the rattle of the knives and forks. The servants were dismissed, and the three friends left alone.
"Really, gentlemen," don Adolfo said as he uncorked a bottle of champagne, "of all meals, in my opinion, supper is the best; our fathers liked it, and were right; among other good customs that are departing, this one is going, and will soon be entirely forgotten. I, for one, shall regret it sincerely." He filled his companions' glasses. "Permit me," he continued, "to drink your health in this wine, one of the most delicious productions of your country." And after hobnobbing, he emptied the glass at one draught. The bottles rapidly succeeded each other, for the glasses were no sooner filled than emptied. They soon began to grow excited. Then they lit cigars, and attacked the liqueurs—Jamaica rum, Cataluña refino, and French brandy. With their elbows on the table, and enveloped in a dense cloud of fragrant smoke, they went on talking with less reservation, and insensibly—they did not perceive it themselves—their conversation assumed a more earnest and confidential character.
"Bah!" Dominique suddenly said, throwing himself back comfortably in his chair, "Life is a good thing, and above all a beautiful one."
At this outburst, which fell into the centre of the conversation like an aerolite, the adventurer burst into a sharp, nervous laugh.
"Bravo!" he said, "That is first-class philosophy. This man, who was born, he does not know of whom or where, who has sprung up like a sturdy mushroom, never knowing any other friend save myself, who does not possess a shilling, considers life a beautiful thing and congratulates himself on enjoying it. By Jove! I should be curious to hear this fine theory developed a little."