"Sh! let us listen to monsieur le baron."
At dessert, Monsieur Bidault proposed to sing; but Dubourg observed that in good society it was no longer fashionable to sing, and Chambertin imposed silence on the ex-notary.
"Singing isn't fashionable," he said; "what were you thinking about?"
But the corpulent Frossard was in the habit of singing, and he was not at all abashed by what Chambertin said; whereupon the host, seeing that he could not prevent him from singing his drinking-song, requested the company to walk into the adjoining room, where the concert was about to begin, hoping that the ironmaster's ditty would pass for an aria.
A lady and gentleman regaled the company with a piece for harp and piano, with thirty-six variations. The mayor took his 'cello, and the notary a violin; a horn was presented to Dubourg, who had said that he played on all instruments, but who now declared that he could play only the English horn, and passed the instrument to Ménard, forcing him into a seat in front of a music stand. The tutor stared at him in amazement, but he whispered in his ear:
"Just blow into it, and don't look embarrassed."
Ménard, who had not spared his host's wine at dinner, was not afraid of anything; he took the horn and put the mouthpiece to his lips, blowing with all his might and rolling his eyes. They began a trio, Dubourg beating time. Whenever it was the horn's turn, not a sound was heard, because, try as hard as he would, Ménard could not find the mouthpiece; but Dubourg seemed content, and said, turning toward the company:
"I have never heard such sweet music! no one would believe that it was a horn!"
Everybody applauded, and Ménard, after it was all over, said to himself:
"I knew how to play the horn, and I never suspected it!"