thout confusion. As the count was known to have passed the day
on the road, the dinner was served in advance of the usual hour. All the
establishment, even to the lowest scullion, represented the spirit
of the first article of the rules of the house, "Servants are not to
execute orders, but anticipate them."

M. de Commarin had hardly removed the traces of his journey, and changed
his dress, when his butler announced that the dinner was served.

He went down at once; and father and son met upon the threshold of the
dining-room. This was a large apartment, with a very high ceiling,
as were all the rooms of the ground floor, and was most magnificently
furnished. The count was not only a great eater, but was vain of his
enormous appetite. He was fond of recalling the names of great men,
noted for their capacity of stomach. Charles V. devoured mountains of
viands. Louis XIV. swallowed at each repast as much as six ordinary men
would eat at a meal. He pretended that one can almost judge of men's
qualities by their digestive capacities; he compared them to lamps,
whose power of giving light is in proportion to the oil they consume.

During the first half hour, the count and his son both remained silent.
M. de Commarin ate conscientiously, not perceiving or not caring to
notice that Albert ate nothing, but merely sat at the table as if to
countenance him. The old nobleman's ill-humour and volubility returned
with the dessert, apparently increased by a Burgundy of which he was
particularly fond, and of which he drank freely.

He was partial, moreover, to an after dinner argument, professing a
theory that moderate discussion is a perfect digestive. A letter which
had been delivered to him on his arrival, and which he had found time to
glance over, gave him at once a subject and a point of departure.

"I arrived home but an hour ago;" said he, "and I have already received
a homily from Broisfresnay."

"He writes a great deal," observed Albert.

"Too much; he consumes himself in ink. He mentions a lot more of his
ridiculous projects and vain hopes, and he mentions a dozen names of men
of his own stamp who are his associates. On my word of honour, they seem
to have lost their senses! They talk of lifting the world, only
they want a lever and something to rest it on. It makes me die with
laughter!"

For ten minutes the count continued to discharge a volley of abuse and
sarcasm against his best friends, without seeming to see