He had concealed his fourth five-franc piece in his hand; and now pinching his nose with his fingers, he blew it loudly, and apparently drew out the coin, which he then paraded round like a monstrance.
"That's what I blow from my nose, when I've got a cold!"
A round of applause shook the walls, and Flore, quite vanquished, brought the quart of rum and some sugar. Next a salad-bowl was wanted, and then the scamp took possession of the whole room, stirring the punch, with his elbows squarely set, while his red face was lighted up by the glow of the flames, which increased the heat of the atmosphere, already densely befogged by the lamps and pipes. Buteau, exasperated at sight of the money, suddenly broke out:
"You thundering swine, aren't you ashamed of tippling away like that with the money you rob our father of?"
"Oh, it's you, young 'un! I suppose it's your empty stomach that makes you talk such rot!"
"I tell you, you're a dirty beast, and you'll finish at the galleys. To begin with, it was you that killed our mother with grief."
The sot rattled his spoon and stirred up a tempest of flame in the salad-bowl, while he split his sides with laughter.
"Right you are; go on. Sure enough it was me--supposing it wasn't you!"
"And I tell you further that spendthrifts of your kidney don't deserve that the corn should grow. Only to think that our property--yes, all that land that the old folks took so much trouble to leave us--has been pledged by you, and handed over to others. You dirty blackguard, what have you done with the land?"
At this Hyacinthe was roused. His punch went out, and he settled himself, leaning back in his chair, seeing that all the drinkers were silently listening, to judge between him and his brother.
"The land!" he yelled: "why, what the deuce does the land care for you? You're its slave, it robs you of your enjoyments, your strength, your life! You idiot! And it doesn't so much as make you rich! While I, who fold my arms and despise it, confining myself to giving it a kick or two, why, I, you see, am independent and can wet my whistle! Oh, you confounded simpleton!"
The peasants laughed again, while Buteau, surprised by the roughness of the attack, could only mutter: