“I have seen no lamprey,” she said; “I think you must be dreaming. Here are a carp, two pike, and I know not what fish beside, but I have seen no lamprey to day.”
“What?” said he. “Do you think I am drunk?”
“Yes,” replied the curé and the other guests, “we think no less. You are too niggardly to buy such a lamprey.”
“By God,” said his wife, “he is either making fun of you or he is dreaming—for certainly I have never seen this lamprey.”
Her husband grew angry, and cried,
“You lie, you whore! Either you have eaten it, or you have hidden it somewhere. I promise you it will be the dearest lamprey you ever had.”
With that he turned to the curé and the others, and swore by God’s death and a hundred other oaths, that he had given his wife a lamprey which had cost him a franc; but they, to tease him and torment him still more, pretended not to believe him, and that they were very disappointed, and said;
“We were invited to dinner at such houses, but we refused in order to come here, thinking we were going to eat this lamprey; but, as far as we can see, there is no chance of that.”
Their host, who was in a terrible rage, picked up a stick, and advanced towards his wife to thrash her, but the others held him back, and dragged him by force out of the house, and with much trouble appeased him as well as they could. Then, since they could not have the lamprey, the curé had the table laid, and they made as good cheer as they could.
The good dame meanwhile sent for one of her neighbours, who was a widow, but still good-looking and lively, and invited her to dinner; and when she saw her opportunity, she said;