"Come, come! to table, and let us forget about all that!" said the Bohemian, seating himself and filling the glasses. "After all is said, life is always a mixture of battles and pleasures, of strife and feasting; we must forget the former and make the most of the latter."
"Yes, that is so; to table! the old Bohemian talks like Nostradamus, from whom he is probably descended."
"Not in a direct line, but that makes no difference; I try to walk in his footsteps by reading the future as best I may. Let us drink, messeigneurs, and let us attack this omelet."
"Ah, yes! let us attack the omelet and give it no quarter."
Passedix took his place in front of the supper, the Bohemian being opposite; Cédrille was still standing, and seemed undecided as to what he should do.
"Well, young man, is my company not agreeable to you, that you do not take a seat with us?" said the old man, glancing at the Béarnais peasant.
"Your company cannot help flattering him!" cried Passedix, stuffing enormous slices of omelet into his mouth, and pieces of bread of equal dimensions. "Sandioux! who wouldn't be happy to drink with such a venerable old man, who has the grip of a Hercules?—Come, comrade Cédrille, sit you down there."
"Oh! I'll tell you what," replied Cédrille, as he seated himself; "I don't feel a bit hungry, and that blow made me sick!"
"The idea of a man of your age paying any attention to that little tap! you are strong enough to stand harder knocks than that!—Come! drink, as you are not hungry, and we will eat for you."
"Well said, venerable Bohemian! He need have no fear, I will eat his share; but let us drink; one can always drink, even when one is not thirsty."