There was so unusual a tone in the Bailiff’s voice that his wife felt sure something extraordinary had happened, but whether for good or ill she was unable to make sure: and downstairs she came, therefore, in great haste, to see for herself what was taking place.
She found her husband, wild with delight, trotting round to look on all sides at the game spread on the table, and it must be confessed, that no sight could have more greatly rejoiced a gourmand’s eye. As soon as he caught sight of Suzanne, “Look, look, Madame!” he cried, clapping his hands together. “See what our friend Thibault has brought us, and thank him for it. Praise be to God! there is one person who knows how to keep his promises! He tells us he will send a hamper of game, and he sends us a cart-load. Shake hands with him, embrace him at once, and just look here at this.”
Madame Magloire graciously followed out her husband’s orders; she gave Thibault her hand, allowed him to kiss her, and cast her beautiful eyes over the supply of food which elicited such exclamations of admiration from the Bailiff. And as a supply, which was to make such an acceptable addition to the ordinary daily fare, it was certainly worthy of all admiration.
First, as prime pieces, came a boar’s head and ham, firm and savoury morsels; then a fine three year old kid, which should have been as tender as the dew that only the evening before beaded the grass at which it was nibbling; next came hares, fine fleshy hares from the heath of Gondreville, full fed on wild thyme; and then such scented pheasants, and such delicious red-legged partridges, that once on the spit, the magnificence of their plumage was forgotten in the perfume of their flesh. And all these good things the fat little man enjoyed in advance in his imagination; he already saw the boar broiled on the coals, the kid dressed with sauce piquante, the hares made into a pasty, the pheasants stuffed with truffles, the partridges dressed with cabbage, and he put so much fervour and feeling into his orders and directions, that merely to hear him was enough to set a gourmand’s mouth watering.
It was this enthusiasm on the part of the Bailiff which no doubt made Madame Suzanne appear somewhat cold and unappreciative in comparison. Nevertheless she took the initiative, and with much graciousness assured Thibault that she would on no account allow him to return to his farms until all the provisions, with which, thanks to him, the larder would now overflow, had been consumed. You may guess how delighted Thibault was at having his cherished wishes thus met by Madame herself. He promised himself no end of grand things from this stay at Erneville, and his spirits rose to the point of himself proposing to Maître Magloire that they should indulge in a preparatory whack of liquor to prepare their digestions for the savoury dishes that Mademoiselle Perrine was preparing for them.
Maître Magloire was quite gratified to see that Thibault had forgotten nothing, not even the cook’s name. He sent for some vermouth, a liqueur as yet but little known in France, having been imported from Holland by the Duke of Orleans and of which a present had been made by his Highness’s head cook to his predecessor.
Thibault made a face over it; he did not think this foreign drink was equal to a nice little glass of native Châblis; but when assured by the Bailiff that, thanks to the beverage, he would in an hour’s time have a ferocious appetite, he made no further remark, and affably assisted his host to finish the bottle. Madame Suzanne, meanwhile, had returned to her own room to smarten herself up a bit, as women say, which generally means an entire change of raiment.
It was not long before the dinner-hour sounded, and Madame Suzanne came down stairs again. She was perfectly dazzling in a splendid dress of grey damask trimmed with pearl, and the transports of amorous admiration into which Thibault was thrown by the sight of her prevented the shoe-maker from thinking of the awkwardness of the position in which he now unavoidably found himself, dining as he was for the first time with such handsome and distinguished company. To his credit, be it said, he did not make bad use of his opportunities. Not only did he cast frequent and unmistakable sheep’s eyes at his fair hostess, but he gradually brought his knee nearer to hers, and finally went so far as to give it a gentle pressure. Suddenly, and while Thibault was engaged in this performance, Madame Suzanne, who was looking sweetly towards him, opened her eyes and stared fixedly a moment. Then she opened her mouth, and went off into such a violent fit of laughter, that she almost choked, and nearly went into hysterics. Maître Magloire, taking no notice of the effect, turned straight to the cause, and he now looked at Thibault, and was much more concerned and alarmed with what he thought to see, than with the nervous state of excitement into which his wife had been thrown by her hilarity.
“Ah! my dear fellow!” he cried, stretching two little agitated arms towards Thibault, “you are in flames, you are in flames!”
Thibault sprang up hastily.