At last two dogs that were prowling about the yard answered the uproar that he made; their barking awoke the cows, which began to low, and the donkeys, which began to bray; there was an infernal hurly-burly, in the midst of which the voice of a woman, who had come to a window, had difficulty in making itself heard. “Who’s that? What do you want? answer!” “Ah! ten thousand cannonades! I am not mistaken; it’s her, it’s my brunette!--Didn’t I tell you, Jacques, that we should get a supper; we are at her farm. Open, my duck, open quick! Love and hunger bring me back to you!” “What? can it be him?” “Yes, yes! It is him, it’s me, it’s us, in fact! Come, Louise, put on the necessary skirt, and come and let us in. But try to make your beasts quiet, for we can’t hear ourselves talk here!” The farmer’s wife left the window to come down to admit them, and thereupon Sans-Souci informed Jacques that they were at the abode of the unfaithful sweetheart of whom he had spoken that morning, and who was at heart very kind, very sentimental,--she had given him proofs of it that morning,--very obliging, and that she made her husband a cuckold solely because of her temperament. “But this husband,” said Jacques; “he is the master in his own house, and----” “No; in the first place, Louise is the mistress; in the second place, he’s a good fellow. Oh! she told me all about it this morning; she wanted me then to pass some time at the farm, as a distant relative of hers, just back from the army. I didn’t accept, because I had promised to join you, and your friendship goes ahead of everything; but so long as you are here, and we are our own masters, faith! it’s a good wind that blows us to my old flame’s house--Hush! here’s the lady herself!” Louise did in fact open the door at that moment; she seemed surprised at sight of Jacques. “This is my friend, let me introduce him to you,” said Sans-Souci; “he is a fine fellow, a good comrade, whom I don’t ever mean to leave.” “Oh, well, then it’s all right, he’s our friend too. By the way, my husband’s asleep, but it don’t make any difference,--don’t forget that you’re my cousin, Sans-Souci.” “All right, that’s agreed; now let’s be off to the kitchen.” “I will make you an omelet with pork.” “That will be fine! But are you alone?” “Our farm boy’s to be married the day after to-morrow, and bless my soul! he is sleeping all he can beforehand.” “That’s a good idea.--Give me the frying-pan.” In a short time the supper was prepared, and Sans-Souci and Jacques did full honor to it; Louise watched them, and laughed at the thought of her husband’s surprise when he should find that two strangers had slept in his house. “I am going to put you into the little cheese room. It is close by, and you can go into it without going through our room and waking up my man. We will tell him all about it to-morrow.”