Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.  It was Daddy Malivoire, who exclaimed: 

“Ha, daddy!  Come and have a glass of spirits.”

And they sat down before the table of a rustic inn placed in the open air.

They drank one glass of spirits, then two, then three; and old Amable once more wandered through the assembly.  His thoughts became slightly confused, he smiled without knowing why, he smiled in front of the lotteries, in front of the wooden horses, and especially in front of the killing game.  He remained there a long time, filled with delight when he saw a holidaymaker knocking down the gendarme or the cure, two authorities which he instinctively distrusted.  Then he went back to the inn, and drank a glass of cider to cool himself.  It was late, night came on.  A neighbor came to warn him: 

“You’ll get back home late for the stew, daddy.”

Then he set out on his way to the farm house.  A soft shadow, the warm shadow of a spring night, was slowly descending on the earth.

When he reached the front door, he thought he saw through the window which was lighted up, two persons in the house.  He stopped, much surprised, then he went in, and he saw Victor Lecoq seated at the table, with a plate filled with potatoes before him, taking his supper in the very same place where his son had sat.

And, all of a sudden, he turned round, as if he wanted to go away.  The night was very dark now.  Celeste started up, and shouted at him: 

“Come quick, daddy!  Here’s some good stew to finish off the assembly with.”

Thereupon he complied through inertia, and sat down watching in turn the man, the woman and the child.  Then, he began to eat quietly as on ordinary days.

Victor Lecoq seemed quite at home, talked from time to time to Celeste, took up the child in his lap, and kissed him.  And Celeste again served him with food, poured out drink for him, and appeared content while speaking to him.  Old Amable followed them with a fixed look without hearing what they were saying.

When he had finished supper (and he had scarcely eaten anything, so much did he feel his heart wrung) he rose up, and in place of ascending to his loft as he did every night he opened the yard door, and went out into the open air.

When he had gone, Celeste, a little uneasy, asked: 

“What is he going to do?”

Victor replied in an indifferent tone: 

“Don’t bother yourself.  He’ll come back when he’s tired.”

Then, she saw after the house, washed the plates and wiped the table, while the man quietly took off his clothes.  Then he slipped into the dark and hollow bed in which she had slept with Cesaire.

The yard door reopened, old Amable again presented himself.  As soon as he had come in, he looked round on every side with the air of an old dog on the scent.  He was in search of Victor Lecoq.  As he did not see him, he took the candle off the table, and approached the dark niche in which his son had died.  In the interior of it he perceived the man lying under the bed clothes and already asleep.  Then the deaf man noiselessly turned round, put back the candle, and went out into the yard.