When all those seated at the table saw Dominique in the old people’s arms, and learnt the whole story, there came an extraordinary outburst of delight; deafening acclamations arose once more; and what with their enthusiastic greetings and embraces they almost stifled the messenger from the sister family, that prince of the second dynasty of the Froments which ruled in the land of the future France.

Mathieu gayly gave his orders:  “There, place his cover in front of us!  He alone will be in front of us like the ambassador of some powerful empire.  Remember that, apart from his father and mother, he represents nine brothers and seven sisters, without counting the four children that he already has himself.  There, my boy, sit down; and now let the service continue.”

The feast proved a mirthful one under the big oak tree whose shade was spangled by the sunbeams.  Delicious freshness arose from the grass, friendly nature seemed to contribute its share of caresses.  The laughter never ceased, old folks became playful children once more in presence of the ninety and the eighty-seven years of the bridegroom and the bride.  Faces beamed softly under white and dark and sunny hair; the whole assembly was joyful, beautiful with a healthy rapturous beauty; the children radiant, the youths superb, the maidens adorable, the married folk united, side by side.  And what good appetites there were!  What a gay tumult greeted the advent of each fresh dish!  And how the good wine was honored to celebrate the goodness of life which had granted the two patriarchs the supreme grace of assembling them all at their table on such a glorious occasion!  At dessert came toasts and health-drinking and fresh acclamations.  But, amid all the chatter which flew from one to the other end of the table, the conversation invariably reverted to the surprise at the outset:  that triumphal entry of the brotherly ambassador.  It was he, his unexpected presence, all that he had not yet said, all the adventurous romance which he surely personated, that fanned the growing fever, the excitement of the family, intoxicated by that open-air gala.  And as soon as the coffee was served no end of questions arose on every side, and he had to speak out.

“Well, what can I say?” he replied, laughing, to a question put to him by Ambroise, who wished to know what he thought of Chantebled, where he had taken him for a stroll during the morning.  “I’m afraid that if I speak in all frankness, you won’t think me very complimentary.  Cultivation, no doubt, is quite an art here, a splendid effort of will and science and organization, as is needed to draw from this old soil such crops as it can still produce.  You toil a great deal, and you effect prodigies.  But, good heavens! how small your kingdom is!  How can you live here without hurting yourselves by ever rubbing against other people’s elbows?  You are all heaped up to such a degree that you no longer have the amount of air needful for a man’s lungs.  Your largest stretches of land, what you call your big estates, are mere clods of soil where the few cattle that one sees look to me like lost ants.  But ah! the immensity of our Niger; the immensity of the plains it waters; the immensity of our fields, whose only limit is the distant horizon!”