And Barty danced "la Paladine," and did Scotch reels and Irish jigs
and break-downs of his own invention, amidst roars of laughter from
all the family.
Finally the gentlemen of the party went down to the river for a
swim--and old Laferte would sit on the bank and smoke his
brule-gueule, and throw carefully selected stones for Barty to dive
after--and feel he'd scored off Barty when the proper stone wasn't
found, and roar in his triumph. After which he would go and pick the
finest peach he could find, and peel it with his pocket-knife very
neatly, and when Barty was dressed, present it to him with a kindly
look in both eyes at once.
"Mange-moi ca--ca t' fera du bien!"
Then, suddenly: "Pourquoi q' tu n'aimes pas la chasse? t'as pas
peur, j'espere!" (Why don't you like shooting? you're not afraid, I
hope!)
[Illustration: LE PERE POLYPHEME]
"'Sais pas,'" said Josselin; "don't like killing things, I
suppose.'"
So Barty became quite indispensable to the happiness and comfort of
Pere Polypheme, as he called him, as well as of his amiable family.
On the 1st of September there was a grand breakfast in honor of the
partridges (not in the kitchen this time), and many guests were
invited; and Barty had to sing and talk and play the fool all
through breakfast; and got very tipsy, and had to be put to bed for
the rest of the day. It was no fault of his, and Madame Laferto
declared that "ces messieurs" ought to be ashamed of themselves, and
watched over Barty like a mother. He has often declared he was never
quite the same after that debauch--and couldn't feel the north for a
month.
The house was soon full of guests, and Barty and I slept in M.
Laferte's bedroom--his wife in a room adjoining.
Every morning old Polyphemus would wake us up by roaring out:
"He! ma femme!"
"Voila, voila, mon ami!" from the next room.
"Viens vite panser mon cautere!"
And in came Madame L. in her dressing-gown, and dressed a blister he
wore on his big arm.