'Broken smack off was his poor leg, as if it had been a bean-pole. Sacristi! when I saw that, I was furious. I wanted to break the idol to pieces with my pickaxe, but Monsieur Peyrade wouldn't let me. He gave some money to Jean Coll, who is still in his bed, though it is a fortnight since this happened; and the doctor says he will never walk as well on this leg as on the other. 'Tis a great pity, for he was our best runner, and, next to young master, the best tennis-player in the country. Monsieur Alphonse Peyrade takes it very much to heart, for he always played with Coll. Oh! it was a beautiful sight to see them send the balls up! _Paff_--_paff_--they never touched the ground.'
Conversing in this manner, we entered Ille, and I soon found myself in the presence of Monsieur Peyrade. He was a little old man, still ruddy and active, with powdered hair, a red nose, and a gay and jovial air. Before opening the letter of Monsieur de P----, he installed me at a well-spread table, and introduced me to his wife and son, as an eminent archeologist who was going to draw forth Roussillon from the state of oblivion in which the indifference of the savans had so long left it.
While eating with that fine appetite which the keen mountain air imparts, I studied the appearance of my hosts. I have already spoken of Monsieur Peyrade; I may add that he was vivacity itself. He chattered, ate, jumped up, ran to the library, brought me books, showed me prints, poured out wine for me; in short, he was not a moment in repose. His wife, who, as most of the Catalonian women are after the age of forty, was rather fat, and seemed to be a substantial country dame, wholly taken up with the affairs of her household. Although the supper was sufficient for at least six persons, she ran to the kitchen, ordered pigeons to be killed, had fritters made, and opened I know not how many pots of sweet-meats. In a few moments the table was loaded with dishes and bottles, and had I only tasted all that was offered me, I should certainly have died of indigestion. Still, at every dish which I declined, there were fresh apologies. They were 'afraid I did not find things to my liking at Ille. They had so few resources in the country, and Parisians were so hard to please!'