"Ah!"
"The capon was soft."
"Good heavens!"
"The soup was greasy."
"Misericorde!"
"And then you have no time to give me."
"I!"
"You said so, did you not? It only remains for you to become a liar."
"Oh! I can put off my business: it was only a lady who asks me to see her."
"See her, then."
"No, no! dear M. Chicot, although she has sent me a hundred bottles of Sicilian wine."
"A hundred bottles!"
"I will not receive her, although she is probably some great lady. I will receive only you."
"You will do this?"
"To breakfast with you, dear M. Chicot – to repair my wrongs toward you."
"Which came from your pride."
"I will humble myself."
"From your idleness."
"Well! from to-morrow I will join my monks in their exercises."
"What exercises?"
"Of arms."
"Arms!"
"Yes; but it will be fatiguing to command."
"Who had this idea?"
"I, it seems."
"You! impossible!"
"No. I gave the order to Brother Borromée."
"Who is he?"
"The new treasurer."
"Where does he come from?"
"M. le Cardinal de Guise recommended him."
"In person?"
"No, by letter."
"And it is with him you decided on this?"
"Yes, my friend."
"That is to say, he proposed it and you agreed."
"No, my dear M. Chicot; the idea was entirely mine."
"And for what end?"
"To arm them."
"Oh! pride, pride! Confess that the idea was his."
"Oh! I do not know. And yet it must have been mine, for it seems that I pronounced a very good Latin text on the occasion."
"You! Latin! Do you remember it?"
"Militat spiritu – "
"Militat gladio."
"Yes, yes: that was it."
"Well, you have excused yourself so well that I pardon you. You are still my true friend."
Gorenflot wiped away a tear.
"Now let us breakfast, and I promise to be indulgent."
"Listen! I will tell the cook that if the fare be not regal, he shall be placed in confinement; and we will try some of the wine of my penitent."
"I will aid you with my judgment."'
CHAPTER XX.
THE BREAKFAST
Gorenflot was not long in giving his orders. The cook was summoned.
"Brother Eusebius," said Gorenflot, in a severe voice, "listen to what my friend M. Briquet is about to tell you. It seems that you are negligent, and I hear of grave faults in your last soup, and a fatal mistake in the cooking of your ears. Take care, brother, take care; a single step in a wrong direction may be irremediable."
The monk grew red and pale by turns, and stammered out an excuse.
"Enough," said Gorenflot, "what can we have for breakfast to-day?"
"Eggs fried with cock's combs."
"After?"
"Mushrooms."
"Well?"
"Crabs cooked with Madeira."
"Those are all trifles; tell us of something solid."
"A ham boiled with pistachios."
Chicot looked contemptuous.
"Pardon!" cried Eusebius, "it is cooked in sherry wine."
Gorenflot hazarded an approving glance toward Chicot.
"Good! is it not, M. Briquet?" said he.
Chicot made a gesture of half-satisfaction.
"And what have you besides?"
"You can have some eels."
"Oh! we will dispense with the eels," said Chicot.
"I think, M. Briquet," replied the cook, "that you would regret it if you had not tasted my eels."
"What! are they rarities?"
"I nourish them in a particular manner."
"Oh, oh!"
"Yes," added Gorenflot; "it appears that the Romans or the Greeks – I forget which – nourished their lampreys as Eusebius does his eels. He read of it in an old author called Suetonius."
"Yes, monsieur, I mince the intestines and livers of fowls and game with a little pork, and make a kind of sausage meat, which I throw to my eels, and they are kept in soft water, often renewed, in which they become large and fat. The one which I shall offer you to-day weighs nine pounds."
"It must be a serpent!" said Chicot.
"It swallowed a chicken at a meal."
"And how will it be dressed?"
"Skinned and fried in anchovy paste, and done with bread crumbs; and I shall have the honor of serving it up with a sauce flavored with garlic and allspice, lemons and mustard."
"Perfect!" cried Chicot.
Brother Eusebius breathed again.
"Then we shall want sweets," said Gorenflot.
"I will invent something that shall please you."
"Well, then, I trust to you; be worthy of my confidence."
Eusebius bowed and retired. Ten minutes after, they sat down, and the programme was faithfully carried out. They began like famished men, drank Rhine wine, Burgundy and Hermitage, and then attacked that of the fair lady.
"What do you think of it?" asked Gorenflot.
"Good, but light. What is your fair petitioner's name?"
"I do not know; she sent an ambassador."
They ate as long as they could, and then sat drinking and talking, when suddenly a great noise was heard.
"What is that?" asked Chicot.
"It is the exercise which commences."
"Without the chief? Your soldiers are badly disciplined, I fear."
"Without me! never!" cried Gorenflot, who had become excited with wine. "That cannot be, since it is I who command – I who instruct – and stay, here is Brother Borromée, who comes to take my orders."
Indeed, as he spoke, Borromée entered, throwing on Chicot a sharp and oblique glance.
"Reverend prior," said he, "we only wait for you to examine the arms and cuirasses."
"Cuirasses!" thought Chicot, "I must see this," and he rose quietly.
"You will be present at our maneuvers?" said Gorenflot, rising in his turn, like a block of marble on legs. "Your arm, my friend; you shall see some good instruction."
CHAPTER XXI.
BROTHER BORROMÉE
When Chicot, sustaining the reverend prior, arrived in the courtyard, he found there two bands of one hundred