"I am a poor man," interposed Alexis Dubé, "but not for all I own would I see such an insult put on our captain."
The others spoke to the same effect, but Jules was already in the arms of his family, while the worthy habitants went on muttering their imprecations against the imaginary, though improbable, wretches who would have the hardihood to cut up the good fir log which they were going to present to their seigneur on the morrow. It may be suspected that the liberal cups and ample supper of May-day eve, together with the sure anticipation of a toothsome breakfast, were not without their effect on the zeal of the honest habitants.
"Come," said Jules to his friend after supper, "let us go and see the preparations for the May-day feast. As neither of us has had the advantage of being present at those famous nuptials of the opulent Gamache, which so ravished the heart of Sancho Panza, the present occasion may give us some faint idea of that entertainment."
In the kitchen all was bustle and confusion. The laughing shrill voices of the women were mixed with those of the six men off guard, who were occupied in drinking, smoking, and chaffing. Three servants, armed each with a frying-pan, were making, or, to use the common expression, "turning" pancakes over the fire in an ample fireplace, whose flames threw ruddy lights and shadows, à la Rembrandt, over the merry faces thronging the great kitchen. Some of the neighbor women, armed with dish and spoon and seated at a long table, kept dropping into the frying-pans, as fast as they were emptied, the liquid paste of which the pancakes were made; while others sprinkled them with maple sugar as they were piled upon the plates. A great kettle, half full of boiling lard, received the doughnuts which two cooks kept incessantly dropping in and ladling out.
The faithful José, the right hand of the establishment, seemed to be everywhere at once on these solemn occasions.
Seated at the end of a table, coat thrown off, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows, his inseparable knife in hand, he was hacking fiercely at a great loaf of maple-sugar and at the same time urging on two servants who were engaged at the same task. The next moment he was running for fine flour and eggs, as the pancake paste got low in the bowls; nor did he forget to visit the refreshment table from time to time to assure himself that nothing was lacking, or to take a drink with his friends.
Jules and Archie passed from the kitchen to the bake-house, where the cooks were taking out of the oven a batch of pies, shaped like half-moons and about fourteen inches long; while quarters of veal and mutton, spare-ribs, and cutlets of fresh pork, ranged around in pans, waited to take their places in the oven. Their last visit was to the wash-house where, in a ten-gallon caldron, bubbled a stew of pork and mutton for the special delectation of the old folks whose jaws had grown feeble.
"Why!" exclaimed Archie, "it is a veritable feast of Sardanapalus—a feast to last six months!"
"But you have only seen a part of it," said Jules. "The dessert is yet ahead of us. I had imagined, however, that you knew more about the customs of our habitants. If at the end of the feast the table were not as well supplied as at the beginning, the host would be accused of stinginess. Whenever a dish even threatens to become empty, you will see the servants hasten to replace it."