ge of every little opportunity to testify his dislike and
ill-feeling toward the legal heir of Claude de Buxieres. Toward eleven
o'clock, the proceedings came to an end, the papers were signed, and
Julien was regularly invested with his rights. But the tiresome
formalities were not yet over: he had to invite the three officials to
breakfast. This event, however, had been foreseen by Manette. Since early
morning she had been busy preparing a bountiful repast, and had even
called Julien de Buxieres aside in order to instruct him in the
hospitable duties which his position and the customs of society imposed
upon him.

As they entered the dining-room, young de Buxieres noticed that covers
were laid for five people; he began to wonder who the fifth guest could
be, when an accidental remark of the clerk showed him that the unknown
was no other than Claudet. The fact was that Manette could not bear the
idea that her son, who had always sat at table with the late Claude de
Buxieres, should be consigned to the kitchen in presence of these
distinguished visitors from Auberive, and had deliberately laid a place
for him at the master's table, hoping that the latter would not dare put
any public affront upon Claudet. She was not mistaken in her idea.
Julien, anxious to show a conciliatory spirit, and making an effort to
quell his own repugnance, approached the 'grand chasserot', who was
standing at one side by himself, and invited him to take his seat at the
table.

"Thank you," replied Claudet, coldly, "I have breakfasted." So saying, he
turned his back on M. de Buxieres, who returned to the hall, vexed and
disconcerted.

The repast was abundant, and seemed of interminable length to Julien. The
three guests, whose appetites had been sharpened by their morning
exercise, did honor to Madame Sejournant's cooking; they took their wine
without water, and began gradually to thaw under the influence of their
host's good Burgundy; evincing their increased liveliness by the exchange
of heavy country witticisms, or relating noisy and interminable stories
of their hunting adventures. Their conversation was very trying to
Julien's nerves. Nevertheless, he endeavored to fulfil his duties as
master of the house, throwing in a word now and then, so as to appear
interested in their gossip, but he ate hardly a mouthful. His features
had a pinched expression, and every now and then he caught himself trying
to smother a yawn. His companions at the