“But I could not give him as good as he brought, for he was certainly not handsome; his legs were short, and rather bandy and he was thin and narrow-chested.  His face was like a bit of parchment, furrowed and wrinkled, without a hair on it to hide the folds in his skin.  His hair resembled that of an Ignorantin[9] brother, with its gray locks falling onto his greasy collar; he had a nose like a ferret, and rat’s eyes, but he was able to offer me food and quarters for the night, and it was not requisite that he should be handsome, in order to do that.

[Footnote 9:  A lay brother in a monastery, who is devoted to the instruction of the poor.—­TRANSLATOR.]

“Capital food, and very comfortable quarters!  A manorial dwelling, a real old, well-furnished manor-house; and in the large dining-room, in front of the huge fireplace, where a large fire was blazing, dinner was laid; I will say no more than that!  A hotch-potch, which had been stewing since morning, no doubt!  A salmis of woodcock, in defense of which angels would have taken up arms; buckwheat cakes, in cream, flavored with aniseed, and a cheese, which is a rare thing and hardly ever to be found in Brittany, a cheese to make any one eat a four pound loaf if he only smelt the rind!  The whole washed clown by Chambertin, and then brandy distilled by cider, which was so good that it made a man fancy that he had swallowed a deity in velvet breeches; not to mention the cigars, pure, smuggled havannahs; large, strong, not dry but green, on the contrary, which made a strong and intoxicating smoke.

“And how the little old gentleman stuffed, and drank and smoked!  He was an ogre, a choirister, a sapper, and so was I, I must confess, and, upon my word, I cannot remember what we talked about during our Gargantuan feed!  But we certainly talked, but what about?  About shooting, certainly, and about women most probably.  Confound it!  Among men, after drinking!  Yes, yes, about women, I am quite sure, and he told some funny stories, did the little old man!  Especially about a portrait which was hanging over the large fireplace, and which represented his grandmother, a marchioness of the old regime.  She was a woman who had certainly played some pranks, and they said that she was still frisky and had good legs and thighs when she was seventy.

“‘It is extraordinary,’ I remarked, ‘how like you are to that portrait.’

“‘Yes,’ the old man replied with a smile; and then he added in his harsh, tremulous voice:  ’I resemble her in everything.  I am only sixty, and I feel as if I should have lusty, hot blood in me until I am seventy.’

“And then suddenly, very much moved, and looking at me admiringly, as he had done once before, he said to the portrait: 

“’I say, marchioness, what a pity that you did not know this handsome young fellow!’

“I remembered that apostrophe and that look very well, when I went to bed about an hour later, nearly drunk, in the large room papered in white and gold, to which I was shown by a tall, broad-shouldered footman, who wished me good-night in Breton.