The old man cast a glance at his two companions, then addressed his host:
“You have ladies in your house? If we prevent them from coming to the table, we will go up to our room at once.”
“No, indeed! I have only a young woman and a child. The poor mother, alas! is bereft of her reason. She is an unfortunate creature, who has a too loving heart.”
“Let us drink to her health, messieurs,” said tall Gervais, filling his glass and his neighbor’s.
“That fellow doesn’t stand much on ceremony,” thought Dupré, as he glanced at the peddler, who took the bottle himself; “the devil! he would exhaust our cellar in short order.”
The old man glanced at his oldest son from time to time; he seemed displeased to see him drink so often, and reproached him for not being more temperate.
“You see, our host’s wine is delicious,” replied Gervais; “and you know that I am a good judge, father.”
“Do not spare it,” said Monsieur Gerval; “it will give you strength to continue your journey to-morrow.”
“With pleasure, my dear monsieur; I am inclined to crook my elbow a bit.”