The librarian was suffocated for a moment by the blow, but the cheese had broken in halves, leaving upon his face some traces of its passage; and he soon recovered himself, drew out a handkerchief, wiped his face, passed his tongue over his lips, and cried:
"He is the winner; he threw beyond the mark; but he who can do more, can do less.—Sound, trumpets!"
The trumpets were represented by the violins; the Auvergnats uttered deafening shouts, the ladies produced their salts, and Monsieur de Tantignac observed:
"Ah! the discuses were of cheese! What a sell! I’ll wager that I could throw one into the moon!"
"Uncle Mignon, find me some cologne, I implore you," said Eudoxie, hanging upon Edouard’s arm, "for this sport smells altogether too much like a barnyard."
"You are not accustomed to it, mesdames, you will have many others!" said Robineau, who believed that everybody was infatuated by what had just been seen; and he timidly took the end of Mademoiselle Cornélie’s little finger, which she abandoned to him, apparently without perceiving the rapture with which he squeezed it.
Monsieur Férulus, not observing that there were still some fragments of cheese upon his forehead and ears, had returned to his place, and once more tapped the rail with his stick, crying:
"The foot race, after the pattern of Hippomenes and Atalanta; with sticks instead of the golden apples, which will be vastly more natural."
Immediately, the Auvergnats began to race about the courtyard, and those who fell behind threw sticks between the legs of their comrades, to cause them to fall, so that they might reach the goal first. This game came to an end without accident; but the Chevalier de Tantignac cried:
"I don’t see anything wonderful in running as these peasants do; I can go six leagues on one foot! That’s rather a different thing!"