"Well, what of it? that's no reason why I shouldn't eat my dinner." "I want you to have the honor of dining with them." "So long as I have a good dinner, my dear man, it matters little to me whether I dine with a baron or a miller." "Come, come, Frossard, my friend, have a little more elevation in your ideas." "My chicken is getting cold." "You shall have some delicious hare _piqué_ at my house; I also have a certain pâté de foie gras, which has just been sent to me from Strasbourg." "Ah! the traitor will succeed in tempting me." "We will have some of my old pomard, and some of that Saint-Péray you're so fond of." "It is impossible to resist you." "Will you come?" "Yes; but not for your noblemen and your scholars; I don't know anything about them. I'll come for the hare and the pomard, which I know all about." Monsieur Fondant was the first to arrive; but, being naturally timid, and more embarrassed than usual at the thought of appearing before two strangers, whom he supposed to be princes from the few words his neighbor had let fall, the ex-apothecary remained in the reception-room adjoining the salon where Madame Chambertin was talking with her guests; lacking courage to present himself alone, he waited for the other guests to arrive, so that he might steal in behind them. Monsieur and Madame Bidault came at last, and so did the corpulent Frossard. Monsieur Chambertin, who had been giving orders to his cook, hurried forward to greet his guests. He found Monsieur Fondant in the reception-room, and, throwing open the door of the salon, presented Madame Bidault to monsieur le baron. During the exchange of salutations between the ex-notary and his wife and our two travellers, Frossard, who did not stand so much on ceremony, pushed Fondant, who seemed inclined to remain in the reception-room, before him; and Madame Chambertin, having made her company welcome, disappeared to give a moment's attention to her toilet. "Monsieur le baron," said Chambertin, "I have got together a few friends, who, like myself, are overjoyed to have----" "Faith! my dear man," said Frossard, dropping into an easy-chair, and interrupting his host without ceremony, "you came just in time; if I had put my knife into the chicken, I wouldn't have left it." "That dear Frossard must have his joke," said Monsieur Bidault, slapping the ironmaster's leg, while his better half sat very stiffly in a chair facing Dubourg, who, half reclining on a couch, resembled a sultan passing his slaves in review; while Ménard, at a little distance, admired the ironmaster's appearance of robust health and the respectful bearing of Monsieur Fondant, who had seated himself near a window so as to be almost hidden by the curtain. "If I had known earlier that I was to entertain monsieur le baron," said Chambertin, "I would have arranged a little soirée musicale--a little party; but I flatter myself that I shall be better prepared another time."