Wishing to break the ice, Antoine turned round.
"Well," said he, "we don't seem inclined to talk."
"We must get time," replied the old woman.
He went on:
"Come! tell us the little story about that hen of yours that laid eight eggs."
It was a funny anecdote of long standing in the family. But, as his mother still remained silent, paralyzed by emotion, he started the talking himself, and narrated, with much laughter on his own part, this memorable adventure. The father, who knew it by heart, brightened at the opening words of the narrative; his wife soon followed his example; and the negress herself, when he reached the drollest part of it, suddenly gave vent to a laugh so noisy, rolling, and torrent-like that the horse, becoming excited, broke into a gallop for a little while.
This served as the introduction to their acquaintanceship. The company at length began to chat.
On reaching the house when they had all alighted, and he had conducted his sweetheart to a room, so that she might take off her dress, to avoid staining it, while she would be preparing a good dish intended to win the old people's affections while appealing to their stomachs, he drew aside his parents, near the door, and with beating heart, asked:
"Well, what do you say now?"
The father said nothing. The mother, less timid, exclaimed: