“That’s true—— Brrou!”
“And I am going to have pity on your youth and put a bundle of wood in the fire-place.”
“I didn’t dare ask for it; but, on my word of honour, it will be kind of you if you will.”
Mocquet went out and brought in an armful of wood from the timber-yard, and threw it on to the hearth, poking it down with his foot; then he threw a lighted match among the twigs, and in another moment the clear bright flames were dancing and crackling up the chimney. I went and sat on the stool by the fireside, and there dressed myself; you may be sure that I was not long over my toilette; even Mocquet was astonished at my celerity.
“Now, then,” he said, “a drop of this, and then off!” And saying this, he filled two small glasses with a yellowish coloured liquor, which did not require any tasting on my part to recognize.
“You know I never drink brandy, Mocquet.”
“Ah, you are your father’s son, all over! What will you have, then?”
“Nothing, Mocquet, nothing.”
“You know the proverb: ‘Leave the house empty; the devil will be there.’ Believe me, you had better put something into your stomach, while I load your gun, for I must keep my promise to that poor mother of yours.”
“Well, then, I will have a crust of bread and a glass of pignolet.” Pignolet is a light wine made in non-winegrowing districts, generally said to require three men to drink it, one to drink, and two to hold him; I was, however, pretty well accustomed to pignolet, and could drink it up without help. So I swallowed my glass of wine while Mocquet loaded my gun.