"You old rogue," resumed Hyacinthe, beginning to address Lengaigne familiarly, "your girl's all right."
"Rather!" replied the taverner, complacently.
Suzanne was now in Paris, in the swell set, people said. Lengaigne, acting discreetly, used to hint at a good situation she had there. Meanwhile peasants still kept coming in, and a farmer having asked after Victor, the letter was produced again. "My dear Parents,--This is to tell you that we have been here, at Lille in Flanders ..." They all listened anew; even people who had already heard the letter read five or six times over, gathered round again. Not really eightpence a quart? Yes, really; eightpence!
"A beastly country!" repeated Bécu. At that moment Jean made his appearance; at once going to glance into the ball-room, as if he were looking for some one. Then he returned looking disappointed and uneasy. For the last two months he had not dared to pay such frequent visits to Buteau, for he felt that the latter was cool, not to say hostile. Doubtless he, Jean, had ill-concealed his feelings for Françoise, the growing affection which now fevered him, and his comrade had noticed it. It must have displeased him, interfering with his plans.
"Good evening," said Jean, drawing near a table where Fouan and Delhomme were drinking a bottle of beer.
"Will you join us, Corporal?" said Delhomme, politely.
Jean accepted; and after clinking glasses:
"Funny thing Buteau hasn't turned up," he said.
And, indeed, Buteau now came in, but all by himself, and Jean's face grew still darker. The other strolled round the tavern, shaking hands; then, on reaching his father and brother-in-law's table, he stood there, refusing to sit down or to take anything.
"Lise and Françoise don't dance, then?" Jean finally asked, in a faltering voice.
Buteau looked at him hard out of his little grey eyes.
"Françoise has gone to bed," he replied; "it's the best place for young folks."
An incident near them now attracted their attention, and cut the conversation short. It was Hyacinthe at loggerheads with Flore, whom he had asked for a quart of rum to make some punch, and who refused to bring it.
"Hallo! what's that she's saying? Do you fancy that I sha'n't pay? Why, I'll buy up your whole shanty, if you like. I've merely to blow my nose. Here! Look at this!"