ets of smoke; then a head
could be seen gazing at the procession. It was Victor Lecoq celebrating
the marriage of his old sweetheart, wishing her happiness and sending
her his good wishes with explosions of powder. He had employed some
friends of his, five or six laboring men, for these salvos of musketry.
It was considered a nice attention.

The repast was given in Polyte Cacheprune's inn. Twenty covers were laid
in the great hall where people dined on market days, and the big leg of
mutton turning before the spit, the fowls browned under their own gravy,
the chitterlings sputtering 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 gla