“True,” said the father, “I am not cellarer for nothing.”

He left, and soon returned with three servitors, the first of whom brought some glorious fresh buttered toast.  The others had a table on which was a sweetened preparation of brandy and water—­vulgo, punch.

The new comers were received with acclamation; the company ate the toasts, drank the toddy, and when the abbey clock struck twelve, all went to their cells to enjoy a repose they had richly earned.

Prosperity en route.

One day I rode a horse I called la Joie through the It was at the worst era of the revolution, and I went to see Mr. Prot to obtain a passport which, probably, might save me from prison or the scaffold.

At about 11 P. M., I reached a little bourg or village called Mont St. Vaudrey, and having first attended to my horse, was struck by a spectacle no traveller ever saw without delight.

Before a fire was a spit covered with cock quails and the rails that are always so fat.  All the juice from the quails fell on an immense rotie so built up that the huntsman’s hand was apparent.  Then came one of those leverets, the perfume of which Parisians have no faith in though they fill the room.

“Ah ha!” said I; “Providence has not entirely deserted me.  Let us scent this perfume and die afterwards.”

Speaking to the landlord who, while I was making my examinations, walked up and down the room, I said, “Mon cher, what can you give us for dinner?”

“Nothing very good, Monsieur.  You can have potatoes.  The beans are awful.  I never had a worse dinner.”

The landlord seemed to suspect the cause of my disappointment.  I said, however, “for whom is all this game kept?”

“Alas, Monsieur,” said he, “it is not mine but belongs to some lawyers and judges who have been here several days on a business which concerns a very rich old lady.  They finished yesterday, and wish to celebrate the event by a revolt.”

“Monsieur,” said I, “be pleased to say that a gentleman asks the favor of being permitted to dine with them, that he will pay his portion of the expense, and also be much obliged to them.”

He left me and did not return, but after a few minutes a little fat man entered, who hovered around the kitchen, lifted up the covers and disappeared.

“Ah, ha!” said I. The tiler has come to look at me.  I began to hope, for I knew my appearance was not repulsive.  My heart beat quickly as a candidate’s does after the ballot-box is opened, and before he knows the result, when the landlord told me the gentlemen only waited for me to sit down.

I went at once, and was received in the most flattering manner.

The dinner was glorious, I will not describe it, but only refer to an admirable fricassee of chicken not often seen in such perfection in the country.  It had so many truffles that it would have revived an old Titan.