"Why not?" said Alfred; "we must do as these good people do."
"It’s the most natural seat," said Edouard.
"You look like savages!"
"The savages are the children of nature, my dear fellow, and we are the children of prejudices."
"In that case, messieurs, I will go from here to-morrow without trousers and declare that that is the most natural costume."
"Oh! Robineau, that’s very different! Decency is of all times—the fig-leaf dates from a long way back!—However, you are absolutely at liberty to show your posteriors to the people of Chadrat and to those on your own estate too, if it will give you any pleasure. As you have just bought the château, they will think that it’s an ancient custom which you mean to revive, and it is possible that they will decide to imitate you, which would be extremely interesting, especially on the days of large parties."
During this colloquy the mistress of the hut distributed wooden plates and spoons to everybody, and the aged father cut slices of rye bread. Despite his repugnance, Robineau accepted a plate of soup and ended by eating it like the others, although he muttered that it was too thick and too salt, and swore at the wine, which he considered too new. But the mountaineers did not notice his ill humor; they kept putting more soup into his plate, although he said that he had had enough. And the old man shared his bowlful with the old goat by his side, which seemed to be an old friend of the family.
During the supper Edouard returned to the subject of the White House, because the little that had been said about it had roused his curiosity.
"Pray tell us, good people," he said, "what you know about this place that frightens you so. How long has this White House been the terror of the country?"
"Oh, yes! do tell us that," said Alfred. "I like ghost stories; they make you shudder; it’s delicious!"