ing over the bright, clear fire filled the house
with a thick odor of live coal sprinkled with fat--the powerful,
heavy odor of rustic fare.

They sat down to table at midday and the soup was poured at once into the
plates. All faces had already brightened up; mouths opened to utter loud
jokes and eyes were laughing with knowing winks. They were going to amuse
themselves and no mistake.

The door opened, and old Amable appeared. He seemed in a bad humor and
his face wore a scowl as he dragged himself forward on his sticks,
whining at every step to indicate his suffering. As soon as they saw him
they stopped talking, but suddenly his neighbor, Daddy Malivoire, a big
joker, who knew all the little tricks and ways of people, began to yell,
just as Cesaire used to do, by making a speaking-trumpet of his hands.

"Hallo, my cute old boy, you have a good nose on you to be able to smell
Polyte's cookery from your own house!"

A roar of laughter burst forth from the throats of those present.
Malivoire, excited by his success, went on:

"There's nothing for the rheumatics like a chitterling poultice! It keeps
your belly warm, along with a glass of three-six!"

The men uttered shouts, banged the table with their fists, laughed,
bending on one side and raising up their bodies again as if they were
working a pump. The women clucked like hens, while the servants wriggled,
standing against the walls. Old Amable was the only one that did not
laugh, and, without making any reply, waited till they made room for him.

They found a place for him in the middle of the table, facing his
daughter-in-law, and, as soon as he was seated, he began to eat. It was
his son who was paying, after all; it was right he should take his share.
With each ladleful of soup that went into his stomach, with each mouthful
of bread or meat crushed between his gums, with each glass of cider or
wine that flowed through his gullet he thought he was regaining something
of his own property, getting back a little of his money which all those
gluttons were devouring, saving in fact a portion of his own means. And
he ate in silence with the obstinacy of a miser who hides his coppers,
with the same gloomy persistence with which he formerly performed his
daily labors.

But all of a sudden he noticed at the end of the table Celeste's child on
a woman's lap, and his eye remained fixed on the little boy. He went on
eating, with his glance riveted on the youngster, int