The concierge, who was drunk, thinking that his master wished to drink, held out the glass and spilled on his head a large part of its contents, while Monsieur Férulus exclaimed:
"O thrice happy day! I fancy that I am present at the ceremonies of the Corybantes! I seem to enter the Temple of Cybele! Music, flowers, libations—everything is here!"
"Yes, everything, absolutely," said Robineau, wiping his face; but, as he was not anxious to receive any further libations, he urged his begarlanded nag, and covered with wine and cow-dung, entered La Roche-Noire amid the cries and plaudits of all the little brats in the neighborhood.
Robineau dismounted, and as he still had some difficulty in walking, as a result of the fall under the donkey, he did not feel in condition to inspect his domain at once. After tossing with noble indifference a handful of small coins to the children, who grovelled in the dirt to scramble for them, which, according to Monsieur Férulus, recalled the tournaments of old, Robineau bade the concierge provide the whole company with refreshments; then, having saluted them all, he followed François to his bedroom, where he threw himself, tired out, on his bed, crying:
"Dieu! how pleasant it is to be a seigneur! to be harangued—ow!—and complimented!—Ah! my ribs! It’s a little fatiguing, but I shall get used to it.—François, while I take a little rest, cause a magnificent repast to be prepared, and inform the peasants that there will be a ball at the château this evening. I have been too well received not to show my gratitude."
XI
THE CHÂTEAU DE LA ROCHE-NOIRE.—A VILLAGERS’ FÊTE
Alfred and Edouard followed Robineau’s example; they seized the opportunity to rest from the fatigue of the journey. François showed them to two large rooms where there were bedsteads and mattresses; the beds in the château lacked bedclothes only; but François had already sent servants to Clermont to bring linen, with the carriage and the luggage of his master and his friends.
After three hours’ rest Robineau woke. He lay beneath a crimson canopy; ancient silk curtains surrounded the bed on which he had thrown himself and which was decidedly hard. But Robineau said to himself as he rose:
"I will have the mattresses stuffed."
Then he glanced about the room which was to be his bedroom. The cornice was gilded; the ceiling was adorned with Cupids, whose features were not clearly distinguishable; and the apartment was hung with old tapestry representing the story of the Chaste Susannah.