"You have supped already? why, that's no reason! Is your stomach one of those that can digest only one meal at a time? At your age I would have supped every hour in the night if I had had the chance. A ride in the saddle and the mountain air are quite enough to renew the appetite. To be sure, one's stomach is less obliging at fifty; so that I consider myself well-treated if I have half a glass of good wine with a crust of stale bread. But do not stand on ceremony here. You have come in the nick of time, for I was just about to sit down, and as my poor little one has a sick-headache to-day, Janille and I were very depressed at the idea of eating alone: so your arrival is a comfort to us, and this good fellow's too, my old playmate, whom I am always glad to see. Come, sit you down here beside me," he said to the peasant, "and you, Mère Janille, opposite me. Do the honors; for you know I have a heavy hand, and when I undertake to carve, I cut the joint and platter and cloth, and sometimes the table, and you don't like that." The supper which Dame Janille had spread on the table with an air of condescension consisted of a goat's-milk cheese, a sheep's-milk cheese, a plate of nuts, a plateful of prunes, a large round loaf of rye bread, and four jugs of wine brought by the master in person. The table-companions set about discussing this frugal meal with evident satisfaction, with the exception of the traveller, who had no appetite, and who was well content to observe the good grace with which the worthy host invited him, without embarrassment or false shame, to partake of his splendid banquet. There was in that cordial and ingenuous ease something at once fatherly and childlike which won the young man's heart. True to the law of generosity which he had imposed upon himself, Monsieur Antoine asked his guest no questions and even avoided remarks which might suggest curiosity in disguise. The peasant seemed a little more uneasy and was more reserved. But soon, being insensibly drawn into the general conversation which Monsieur Antoine and Dame Janille had begun, he laid aside his reserve and allowed his glass to be filled so often that the traveller began to stare in amazement at a man capable of drinking so much, not only without losing his wits but without departing from his usual self-possession and gravity. But with the master of the house it was very different. He had not drunk half of the contents of the jug beside him when his eye began to kindle, his nose to turn red and his hand to tremble. However he did not lose his wits, even after all the jugs had been emptied by himself and his friend the peasant--for Janille, whether from economy or from natural sobriety, merely poured a few drops of wine into her water, and the traveller, having made a heroic effort to swallow the first bumper, abstained from further indulgence in that sour, cloudy and execrable beverage. [Illustration: _EMILE ENTERTAINED BY MONSIEUR ANTOINE._