The wine and the beer began to circulate; the baron saw, with a sort of national pride, Létorière, after having eaten five or six slices of venison, bravely attack the sauer-kraut and smoked bacon, of which he praised the appetizing savor, emptying his two tankards two or three times, meanwhile. While satisfying his furious appetite, Létorière had not remained silent. His lively and natural wit, excited by the good cheer, charmed by a thousand pleasantries; in a word, Selbitz and Erhard saw, to their great astonishment, their master, ordinarily so grave and taciturn, laugh in this one evening more than he had laughed for many years. The huntsman, recognizing in Létorière an accomplished hunter, listened religiously to his slightest words, when the baron ordered him to carry the dogs back to their kennel, and give them their supper. A second iron pot, destined for the hounds, was taken from the fire. The major-domo, after removing the dishes, placed upon the table the tankard of kirchenwasser, an earthen jar full of tobacco, and gave the baron an old pipe. The latter filled it, saying to Létorière, with whom he already felt entirely at ease, "Well! tobacco-smoke won't offend you, Marquis?" For answer, the Marquis drew from his pocket an enormous pipe, which bore the marks of long and faithful service, and began to fill it with familiar ease. "You smoke then, Marquis!" cried the delighted governor, clapping his hands with admiration. "Do people live without smoking, baron? On returning from the chase, after a good meal, what greater pleasure is there than smoking a pipe with your feet on the andirons, drinking from time to time a swallow of kirchenwasser, this savage offspring of the Black Forest, which is, to my thinking, as much superior to French brandy as a heath-cock is to a barn-yard fowl?" And after this audacious flattery, the Marquis enveloped himself in a thick cloud of smoke. The governor, animated by his frequent libations, and whose head was not, perhaps, quite so calm and so cool as that of his guest, regarded the Marquis with a sort of ecstasy; he could not understand how a body so frail in appearance, was so vigorous in reality; how a Frenchman could drink and smoke as much as, or more, than he, the _widerkom vierge_, the subduer of the most redoubtable drinkers of the Empire. "To the health of your mistress, my guest!" said he gayly to the Marquis. "My mistress! that's my gun," said Létorière, stretching himself out by the fire, and poking it with the toe of his great boot, the soles of which were an inch thick. "Devil take the women! they cannot bear the smell of tobacco, of brandy, or of the kennel, without putting a flask of perfume to their noses. Do you make much account of women, baron?"