“Humph! you don’t know how to judge people. I don’t say that these peddlers are scoundrels, but----” “But what?” “Lock your door tight to-night--do you hear, Lucas?” “Yes, Monsieur Dupré, yes, I hear,” replied Lucas, whose hilarity suddenly vanished, and who became pale and perturbed, while Dupré returned slowly to his master’s presence. The old man and Gervais were talking with Monsieur Gerval; the other young man replied only by monosyllables to the questions that were put to him. “My brother is a little serious,” said tall Gervais to his host, in an undertone. “The trouble is, that he is jealous, he’s afraid that his sweetheart has forgotten him in the two years that he has been away, and that disturbs him.” “I can understand that, but you don’t seem to have the same anxiety!” “I? morbleu! woman never worried me! I’m a rake, I am! I snap my fingers at them all, and I am capable of----” “Hush, my son,” said the old man, interrupting him abruptly; “you talk a little too freely; excuse him, monsieur; you see he’s been a soldier.” “Aha! you have been in the army, have you?” “Yes, to be sure I have; and when there’s any fighting to be done, I am always on hand; eh, father?” “Oh! to be sure! You are a wrong-headed youngster! anybody can see that!” Catherine appeared and announced that supper was served in the next room. “Let us adjourn to the table, messieurs,” said Monsieur Gerval, escorting the newcomers to the dining-room. They took their seats, the old peddler beside his host. Dupré, as a very old servant, who had become his master’s friend, always ate at his table; he took his place, but Monsieur Gerval noticed that there was another plate beside him. “For whom is this place, Dupré?” asked Monsieur Gerval. “It is for our young lady, monsieur, or for her daughter, if either of them should come.” “You know very well, my friend, that they are asleep now; Constance isn’t in the habit of sitting up so late.” “She isn’t asleep, monsieur, for I heard a noise in her room.” The old man cast a glance at his two companions, then addressed his host: “You have ladies in your house? If we prevent them from coming to the table, we will go up to our room at once.” “No, indeed! I have only a young woman and a child. The poor mother, alas! is bereft of her reason. She is an unfortunate creature, who has a too loving heart.” “I am sorry for her!” “Let us drink to her health, messieurs,” said tall Gervais, filling his glass and his neighbor’s. “That fellow doesn’t stand much on ceremony,” thought Dupré, as he glanced at the peddler, who took the bottle himself; “the devil! he would exhaust our cellar in short order.” The old man glanced at his oldest son from time to time; he seemed displeased to see him drink so often, and reproached him for not being more temperate. “You see, our host’s wine is delicious,” replied Gervais; “and you know that I am a good judge, father.”