"'Ello, on'y three of you! Might 'a bin fifty by the shindy you kicked up!" He seemed to me to regret having given in so easily. We went into a low room. "Well now," said Guillaumin, "What can you give us to eat?" The old peasant looked us up and down. I could read in his face the mistrust and avarice of bad breeds. "'Aven't I told you there's nothin'?" Guillaumin shrugged his shoulders. "What do you live on? Air?" We certainly looked like marauders. I interfered to reassure the man. "We'll pay you all right!" Guillaumin whispered: "Don't know so much about that." I had my own idea. I opened my purse to show the silver and gold in it. The old fellow considered me. He looked from my hands to my eyes where he tried to read my intentions. "For you three?" "For us, to begin with." "Hm! Would an omelette do you?" "With some ham?" He would see. We sat down at the table. The man went to call at an inside door. "Louise!" A young country girl appeared, with a hypo-critical expression and heavy features. She lacked real grace, but was built on a generous scale, her waist well-marked, and her bosom firm beneath the dress which she had popped on hurriedly. "My eye!" murmured Bouillon. The old man said a few words in patois and the girl knelt down in front of the grate and began to work a bellows. It was not long before some flames sprang from the dying embers. In a hand's turn she had laid the table for us. Five minutes later a frothy golden omelette was dished up for us. We had never been so ravenous. We simply guzzled. We had taken off our great coats, which were stiff with rain. When his first pangs were assuaged, Guillaumin began to cheer up. "A pretty good idea of mine, what?" With a glance at the girl I made some joke under my breath, about the servant girl being, perhaps, the old man's mistress. Bouillon was eating too gluttonously to take a part in the conversation, but he laughed continually for no reason at all, pouring down bumpers of some rather poor wine which the old man had brought us with many sour looks. His face was turning purple, his dog's eyes glistened. How I loved him, taking his share of our animal contentment. The peasant seated at the end of the room had lit a pipe and was watching us out of the corner of his eye. "It's stupid to pay!" repeated Guillaumin. "Let's give him an I O U." His funds must have been coming to an end. "Don't worry! This is my show!" I said. In order to avoid any trouble, I had made up my mind to pay whatever the old fellow claimed. Guillaumin ventured to suggest: "I say we ought to take something back to De Valpic." "And to our _poilus_!" I called the old man, who got up slowly and came to us looking rather anxious but crafty too. "And now what about something for our pals?" "They ain't comin', are they?" "That depends." "Wot does it depend on?" "Upon what you give us for them." This seemed to upset him. He sniffed and stopped talking.