The Italian made a sharp retort, and Macabre, angry with him for raising his voice in presence of his pages and his men-at-arms, although they understood very little French, bade him be silent, and asked the marquis what he could give him to eat. Bois-Doré, who had referred to the incident of the Catholic massacres only to see in what waters young Macabre was sailing since he had grown old, felt more at ease. This leader of partizans could not be acting under the patronage of the Prince de Condé. The marquis's knowledge was sufficiently extensive to enable him to talk of culinary matters like a man who knows his ground, and as, during his stay of two hours at the inn, he had discussed this momentous question with Madame Pignoux, to pass the time away, he was quite familiar with the contents of the pantry and the resources of the cellar. "We shall have the honor to offer you," he said, "a quarter of wild-boar seasoned with spices, which will commend itself to you; a fine mess of Issoudun crabs cooked in beer----" "And well peppered, I hope," said the captain. "My wife loves highly-seasoned dishes." "We will put in a taste of Spanish pimento." And, having enumerated all the dishes, the marquis added: "But would not your illustrious lady like some sweet dishes after the joint?" "The devil! yes. I had nearly forgotten that she recommended a certain _omelette au musc_." "Perhaps your lordship means _aux pistaches_? That is a dish of my own invention." "The deuce you say! She told me that it was invented by the old man." "The old man? Who dares, boast of having discovered before me the _omelette au riz_ and _aux pistaches_?" "Faith, old Bois-Doré, if I must mention that idiot of idiots in good company!" Bois-Doré bit his lips. "Who, pray, does the marquis the honor to repeat his absurd boasts?" he said. "Does madame your wife deign to know him?" "It would seem so!" retorted Macabre, "and I know, also, my old rascal, that you are that triple hound of a false marquis's humble servant, and that he taught you how to cook; but I don't care a straw! You are watched and your ears will answer to me for your ragouts." The marquis saw that he had no other resource than to speak ill of himself, and he did not spare himself, ridiculing his own rank and character in most amusing terms; but he could not decide to couple with his accursed and calumniated name the epithet _old_, which his contemporary Macabre insolently used to decry him. The captain persisted in a most offensive way. "That old dyspeptic must be pretty well broken up," he said, "for when I saw him last he was like a long lath, with no beard on his chin, and I nearly broke him in two by mistake." "Indeed?" said Bois-Doré, recalling the youthful adventure which he had recently related to Adamas; "did you do him the honor of measuring swords with him?"