"There, Messieurs; there is the tour de force. If you have not eaten too much chicken, perhaps you will enjoy the croquignoles. And I have a little bottle of currant wine, too, to finish. Monsieur Giroux, I drink to our better acquaintance."
"And I," said Jean, quite disarmed by the kindness of those whom he had thought to be his enemies, "to your health, Mademoiselle Blanchette! To yours, Monsieur Laroche! Permit me to say that I have never tasted currant wine so delicious, and that the croquignoles are beyond all praise."
"They are not so bad, Jean, and I am glad that you like them. As you see, my friend, I have made a study of human nature, and I know how to please men by good food and drink--and a little flattery."
"Well, Mademoiselle, you succeed marvellously, I must confess."
"Yes, Jean; but, as you may have observed, I have this time omitted the flattery."
"Mademoiselle, it is lucky for me that you have omitted something, else I should have surrendered without the honours of war."
"That would not do at all, Jean. He who gives to me his hand gives his heart also, and must be able to say, with a certain king: 'All is lost save honour.' Could you say that?"
"Mademoiselle, what shall I say? You are a sorceress, I think."
"But no, Jean, only one who observes. It is like walking through the forest where there are signs that one may read if one has eyes to see. And there are little birds, too, that tell one things. But tell me; how does your house advance? It will soon be finished, will it not?"
"Very soon, Mademoiselle--in ten weeks, or less."