It was not quite eleven o’clock when we got to Rion’s, and there we saw Binet, (who like a careful lad had brought his rod), fishing for gudgeon, while Cagnat lay stretched out on the grass looking on.
I went on to the woodyard, for there is nothing I love so well as to handle the big logs stripped of their bark, and breathe in the clean fresh smell of sawdust; on my honor I believe a fine tree appeals to me even more than a woman, though I am not one of those narrow fools who can only enjoy one thing at a time. If I were in the slave market at Constantinople, and saw the girl of my heart there among twenty other beauties, do you think my love for her would prevent me from seeing the charms of the others? No, thank Heaven! my eyes are windows wide open to beauty of every kind, and nothing is lost on me. I am besides rather a sharp old bird,—long experience, you know,—and can detect the little tricks and dodges of the fair sex under no matter what disguise; in the same way beneath the rough skin of my tree-loves I can see life waiting for me to bring it forth.
Meanwhile Cagnat (who is impatient, like all young men) has been exchanging pleasantries at the top of his voice with loungers on the other end of the bridge, for though the people in the two suburbs may differ in some ways, they both like to spend the livelong day sitting on the wall of the bridge, with occasional trips to the nearest tavern; and as you may guess, a conversation between Beuvron and Béyant consists chiefly of abuse. They call us Burgundy snails and peasants; we retort with “frogs,” or “pike-eaters,”—I say “we,” because for the life of me, I never can keep out of any squabble that’s going on; it seems just ordinary civility to answer when you are spoken to. In the midst of our little encounter, all at once the clock struck twelve! Noon already? There must be something wrong with the hourglass, still I ought to be getting home, so I pressed our friends, who were looking on, to help us load our planks on the cart, and give us a hand with it back to Beuvron. “Cheeky devil,” was their first answer, but at bottom they were good-natured enough, so off we went running up the hill to the admiration of all beholders. When we got to our own bridge there were Fétu, Gadin, and Trinquet, just where we left them three hours ago, still watching the water. They jeered at us for working so hard, we called them good-for-nothings, and as the issue seemed in doubt, I sat down on the corner to see how it would all turn out, when suddenly I heard a well-known voice, and there was the old lady, “Will you tell me what you have been doing with yourself ever since nine this morning? It is my belief that you would never come home, if I did not drag you in by the hair of your head, idle, greedy vagabond! And your dinner is all burnt to a cinder!”
“You win!” said I, laughing; “there’s not one of these boys that can stand up to you when it comes to talking—but I was on my way home truly. I had only stopped to rest,—go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.”
The two apprentices, my wife, and Glodie went off towards home at a brisk pace, and I followed in a more leisurely manner—I was going as I was bid, when down from the upper town came the sound of voices, of horns, and the gay chimes from St. Martin’s tower; and I remembered that the wedding of Mademoiselle Lucretia Champeaux, and Monsieur d’Amazy, the Receiver of Taxes, was to take place today. Every one made a bee-line for the castle, and rushed off at the top of his speed, I among the foremost, for shows like that don’t come our way often. Fétu, Gadin, and Trinquet were the only ones who stayed behind, as if they were glued to the wall of the bridge; they said it was undignified to put themselves out for those upper-towners, and as a rule I agree with them, and stand on my dignity as much as any man, but not when it comes between me and my amusement,—there is reason in all things! I took the flight of thirty-six steps up to St. Martin’s at one jump, but all the same by ill-luck I was not in time to see the wedding procession, which had already gone into church; naturally there was nothing left for me to do but to wait and see it come out, but as the service seemed interminably long—the clergy love the sound of their own voices,—I managed to squeeze my way between the bulging corporations of my fellow-citizens, till I found myself just inside the door under a regular human feather-bed. I am the last man to forget the respect due to the sacred edifice otherwise I might have been up to some of my jokes, but I know what’s what, and can be solemn as an owl at the right moment. Only sometimes even owls lose their gravity, and that is what happened to me, for while I was standing there, a model of propriety and devotion, the service went on, and as Monsieur d’Amazy is a great votary of the chase, hunting-horns were introduced at suitable moments. If only the pack of hounds had been there too! I did not dare to laugh, of course, but I whistled a flourish under my breath, and just then came the crucial point of the ceremony when the bride answers “Yes” to the fatal question. At once the horns burst out with the “set to,” and that was too much for me; I cried, “Hallali!” and the whole church roared with laughter, so that the beadle came to restore order, and I thought it a good time to make my way out, as quiet as a mouse.
There were plenty of people outside, many like myself who are aware that ears were made to hear, eyes to see, and tongues to tell what takes place—or what does not,—in the world around us; so it seemed but a moment before the great doors swung open again, and the sound of the organ came pouring out, as the bridal party appeared. First came the Amazy, leading his beautiful prize, her large eyes glancing to right and left like a frightened doe as she advanced. Lovely creature! I wish she had fallen to my charge, but to whom much is given, of him much is demanded, and Amazy has his work cut out for him. Unfortunately I saw little more, so that afterwards I could not even describe the dresses of the bride and bridegroom, for just then we were distracted by a grave question of precedence which arose among the dignitaries who formed part of the procession.
I shall never get over having missed the entrance into the church, for it seems that the Chief Magistrate of the Manor, and the Provost, acting as Mayor, had locked horns in the doorway like two old rams, and the Mayor being the bigger man got through first; the great question now was which of the two would be first coming out, so bets were freely offered, and meanwhile the head of the procession went on its way, but the tail delayed its appearance. We could see, just inside the entrance, that a furious dispute was in progress between the rival officials, and as they could not talk loud in church, there they were, scolding, puckering their faces into the most portentous frowns and scowls, and cursing at each other, all in dumb show. It was enough to make one die of laughing, but we all ended by taking part with one side or the other; the older ones for the Judge, because he was the Duke’s representative, and you must respect others, if you would be respected yourself; but the young men inclined to the side of the Mayor as champion of our liberties, and personally I backed the better man. We all shouted to encourage them with cries of “Go it, Grasset!” “At him again, Pétaud!!” “Shut his mouth!” But to our great disappointment the contestants were too much afraid of spoiling their fine clothes to get to their hands, and the dispute might have lasted till the crack of doom,—for there was no danger of their breath giving out,—if it had not been for the priest, who wanted to get to the castle in time for dinner,—so he smoothed them down, telling them it was bad manners to be late, and worse yet to show their evil tempers in the house of the Lord, that they could settle their difficulties another time,—and in short he got them all in motion. I was not near enough to hear all this, but I could see that he put his two big hands behind their heads and brought their faces gently together for the kiss of peace, and out they all came at last, marching in two lines, with the big priest in the middle. When masters fall out, we are always the gainers, so we were well pleased to see three at the head of the column, instead of one.
When they had all gone into the castle where their well-earned feast awaited them, we remained outside sniffing the delicious odors of a dinner we were not to share; but it was a sort of satisfaction to hear the list of dishes, for there were three of us there, Tripet, Bauldequin and I, who knew what was good, so our mouths watered as we heard all the toothsome things, and we approved or not as seemed best to us, the final decision being that the dinner was not so bad on the whole, only we ought to have been consulted, as persons of experience. When jugged hare was mentioned, every one had his own recipe to give,—for by this time we had a circle of auditors,—and there was lively disputing to and fro, in which I took part, as I always maintain that a man who is not interested in such subjects is nothing but a fish.
The best housekeepers in the town are Mistresses Perrine and Jacquette, who are rivals in the art of dinner-giving; each tries to eclipse the other, and naturally each has her partisans, for our best jousts in Clamecy take place at table. No one loves a good argument better than I do, but I would rather be doing myself than hear the exploits of others, and I cannot grow fat by talking of other men’s dinners. Tripet was of my way of thinking, and you may guess that I was delighted when he whispered to me:
“It is ill talking of good drink to the thirsty, or of love to a neglected lover; I can’t stand any more of this sort of thing; it is as if a beast were gnawing at my vitals; let us find some place where we can feed him.”