At the second course, Dubourg, beginning to be convivially inclined, for he had done full honor to his host's pomard, began to talk recklessly about his châteaux, his vast estates, Poland and Bretagne; he confounded the customs of Rennes with those of Cracow, and the products of his native province with the snowstorms on the Krapach Mountains. But the company, listening with rapt attention to what he said, simply opened their eyes and ears the wider. The corpulent Frossard had a fellow feeling for the baron because he drank his wine without water, and looked upon Ménard as a scholar of distinction because he discoursed learnedly upon the method of cooking every dish. Monsieur Bidault was delighted to have an opportunity of displaying his poetic talent; his wife considered herself a beauty because Dubourg told her that she had a look of Mademoiselle de Scudéri. Monsieur Fondant was more at his ease because nobody paid any attention to him. Monsieur Chambertin was in ecstasy because he had a nobleman at his table; and Madame Chambertin rolled her eyes because the aforesaid nobleman frequently touched her knee with his under the table.
About nine o'clock in the evening, they made an effort to adjourn to the salon. Everybody had striven to hold his own with monsieur le baron, some from love of drinking, others for courtesy's sake, so that no one was quite firm on his legs; the ladies alone were able to stand erect, for they rarely lose their heads at table.
Amid the Bacchic fumes, Dubourg retained sufficient presence of mind to realize that they were six leagues from Grenoble, and that it was time to return thither. Monsieur Chambertin proposed to keep them overnight; but if they remained, they must do what the others did; Monsieur Bidault and the ironmaster had already taken a pack of cards, and Dubourg, who found it difficult to resist the attraction of the gaming-table, felt that he would cut a very foolish figure with no money in his pocket. The better plan, therefore, was to go, and come again. Monsieur Frossard challenged him to a game at backgammon in the near future, and Dubourg, who considered himself very strong at that game, hoped to recoup a part of his losses at the hands of the blacklegs at Lyon.
Ménard was so comfortable at Monsieur Chambertin's that he would have been glad to sleep there, and Madame Chambertin, who may have had some hidden purpose, tried to detain the young palatine. But he had his reasons for not yielding; and, seeing that his persuasions were of no avail, Monsieur Chambertin ordered Lunel to be ready with the cabriolet to drive monsieur le baron and his friend to Grenoble.
Dubourg took leave of his hosts, promising to return very soon and pass several days with them. This promise allayed their regret at his departure.
"Remember, monsieur le baron, that I rely on your word," said Monsieur Chambertin, with a low bow.
"We shall expect you," added madame, with a glance that said all that was necessary.
Dubourg replied by placing his foot on her husband's foot, which he mistook for hers, and cordially shook hands with his host, calling him his dear friend De Chambertin.
Lunel and the cabriolet were waiting; Dubourg and Ménard took their seats and started for Grenoble.
The swaying of the carriage soon put Ménard to sleep; and Dubourg, having no one else to talk to, communed with himself: