The finest apartment on the first floor had been prepared for the young nobleman, and a pretty room on the second for the professor, who, if he had been nothing more than that, would probably have been relegated to the attic, but who was treated with the highest consideration because he was the baron's friend and companion.
The whole household had retired. Ménard was already snoring like one of the blessed, which means that the blessed do not have bad dreams. Dubourg stretched himself out luxuriously in a soft bed, surrounded by rich silk curtains with gold fringe and tassels, and said to himself:
"Gad! it's mighty amusing to play the baron! these people overwhelm me with attentions, and fly to meet my lightest wish! And all because they think me a palatine! If I had introduced myself as plain Monsieur Dubourg of Rennes, they would have told me to go my way; and yet this other name hasn't made a different man of me. But all men have their share of madness—a little more or a little less. Instead of trying to cure it, which would be very noble, no doubt, but which strikes me as rather too difficult, one must flatter their mania to make one's self agreeable to them. This Chambertin is an ass, who, after trading in wine two-thirds of his days, is trying to play the grandee and to ape the airs of the nobility during the last third. What do I care for his idiocy? he is delighted to entertain a baron, and I will play the baron as long as I enjoy myself here. His wife is very willing that I should make love to her, and I'll do it as long as I haven't anything better to do; and it is more than probable that I shan't find anything better as long as I am in her house, because a coquettish woman who has seen her best days never invites any pretty girls who may rob her of attentions."
Reflecting thus, Dubourg was beginning to doze, when he heard a great uproar in the courtyard,—outcries, oaths, and roars of laughter,—and, in the midst of it, he fancied that he recognized the voice of one of his jockeys. He rose, partly dressed himself, and opened the window looking on the courtyard. He saw a number of servants assembled there, and old Lunel fighting for a chicken with one of the little Poles, while the other was shrieking and weeping in a corner.
The two scullions, faithful to the orders Dubourg had given them, had replied only by signs to the other servants; but Lunel, who was Monsieur Chambertin's steward, valet, and groom, all in one, was very ill disposed toward the baron's servants, as well as toward their master, whom he had driven to Grenoble, and from whom he had received no other pourboire than a tap on the cheek. The two boys had bruised themselves behind, when they were thrown out of the carriage; that was why, when trying to make themselves understood by signs, they frequently put their hands to the injured part: a gesture which seemed to Lunel most insulting, and he was convinced that the young Poles intended to make sport of him.
To be revenged on them, he had taken them up to a small room under the eaves, and left them there, supperless. The little fellows did not go to bed, thinking all the time that food would be brought to them, or that they would be called to supper. At last, tired of waiting, they went downstairs. Everybody had retired except Lunel, who was sitting up because he suspected that the baron's servants would not remain quiet.
The little fellows, spurred on by hunger, got scent of the store-closet, which was in the kitchen; and as one of the kitchen windows was open, they easily crawled in, and, making a hole in the canvas door of the closet, one of them seized a chicken which had not been touched, the other the carcass of a hare which still had some meat on it. They were about to fly with their booty when Lunel discovered them; he shouted thief! and struck at them with a whip with which he had armed himself. The scullions ran to the window and climbed through; one fell and bruised his nose; the other, being less awkward, was running off with his chicken, when Lunel overtook him and tried to wrest it from him. Thereupon a struggle began.
"You shan't have it!" cried the boy.
"Oho! you little rascal! you can talk French now, can you? I'll teach you to make insulting signs to me!"
Meanwhile, the one who had fallen cried: