toss pieces of pate and sausage to each other.  They eat, they drink, they sing, they laugh and play tricks.  It seems a struggle who shall be funniest.  It is well known that all things are allowable in the country; and the cits now assembled in the wood of Romainville seem fully persuaded of the fact.  A jolly old governor of about fifty tries to carve a turkey, and can’t succeed.  A little woman, very red, very fat, and very round, hastens to seize a limb of the bird; she pulls at one side, the jolly old governor at the other—­the leg separates at last, and the lady goes sprawling on the grass, while the gentleman topples over in the opposite direction with the remainder of the animal in his hand.  The shouts of laughter redouble, and M. Moutonnet—­such is the name of the jolly old governor—­resumes his place, declaring that he will never try to carve any thing again.  ‘I knew you would never be able to manage it,’ said a large woman bluntly, in a tone that agreed exactly with her starched and crabbed features.  She was sitting opposite the stout gentleman, and had seen with indignation the alacrity with which the little lady had flown to M. Moutonnet’s assistance.

“‘In the twenty years we have been married,’ she continued, ’have you ever carved any thing at home, sir?’

“‘No, my dear, that’s very true;’ replied the stout gentleman in a submissive voice, and trying to smile his better half into good-humour.

“’You don’t know how to help a dish of spinach, and yet you attempt a dish like that!’

“‘My dear—­in the country, you know——­’

“’In the country, sir, as in the town, people shouldn’t try things they can’t perform.’

“’You know, Madame Moutonnet, that generally I never attempt any thing—­but to day’——­

“‘To day you should have done as you do on other days,’ retorted the lady.

“‘Ah, but, my love, you forget that this is Saint Eustache——­’

“‘Yes, yes, this is Saint Eustache!’ is repeated in chorus by the whole company, and the glasses are filled and jingled as before.

“‘To the health of Eustache; Eustache for ever!’

“‘To yours, ladies and gentlemen,’ replied M. Moutonnet graciously smiling—­’and yours, my angel.’

“It is to his wife M. Moutonnet addresses himself.  She tried to assume an amiable look, and condescends to approach her glass to that of M. Eustache Moutonnet.  M. Eustache Moutonnet is a rich laceman of the Rue St Martin; a man highly respected in trade; no bill of his was ever protested, nor any engagement failed in.  For the thirty years he has kept shop he has been steadily at work from eight in the morning till eight at night.  His department is to take care of the day-book and ledger; Madame Moutonnet manages the correspondence and makes the bargains.  The business of the shop and the accounts are confided to an old clerk and Mademoiselle Eugenie Moutonnet, with whom we shall presently become better acquainted.