“Very good,” I said, “agreed; forty francs.”
He then let me go inside the house with Mlle. Soubise, and sent his son towards the boy, who was coming along holding the colt by his mane. He had taken off the halter very considerately and thrown my rug over its steaming sides. On reaching the house the poor beast was quickly unharnessed and taken into a little enclosure, at the far end of which a few badly-joined planks served as a stable for an old mule, which was aroused by the fat woman with kicks and turned out into the enclosure. The colt took its place, and when I asked for some oats for it she replied:
“Perhaps we could get it some, but that isn’t included in the forty francs.”
“Very well,” I said, and I gave our boy five francs to fetch the oats, but the old shrew took the money from him and handed it to her lad, saying:
“You go; you know where to find them, and come back quick.”
Our boy remained with the colt, drying it and rubbing it down as well as he could. I went back to the house, where I found my charming Soubise with her sleeves turned up and her delicate hands washing two glasses and two plates for us. I asked if it would be possible to have some eggs.
“Yes, but——”
I interrupted our monstrous hostess.
“Don’t tire yourself, Madame, I beg,” I said. “It is understood that the forty francs are your tip, and that I am to pay for everything else.”
She was confused for a moment, shaking her head and trying to find words, but I asked her to give me the eggs. She brought me five eggs, and I began to make an omelette, as my culinary glory is an omelette.