Over the third table, spread in the mighty kitchen, presided Jules, with Archie to assist him. This was the table for the young men, and it was supplied like that of Uncle Raoul. While there was gayety enough at the first two tables, there was at the same time a certain decorum observed; but at the third, especially toward the end of the repast, which lasted far on into the morning, there was such a perpetual applause that one could hardly hear himself speak.
The reader is much deceived if he imagines that the May-pole was all this time enjoying repose. Almost every moment one or other of the guests would get up, run out and fire his gun at the May-pole, and return to his place at the table after this act of courtesy.
At the beginning of dessert the seigneur, accompanied by the ladies, visited the second and third tables, where they were rapturously received. A friendly word was on his lips for every one. He drank the health of his tenants, and his tenants drank to himself and his family, to the accompaniment of the reports of twenty muskets, which were blazing away outside.
This ceremony at an end, the seigneur returned to his own table, where he was induced to sing a little song, in the chorus of which all joined.
"Oh, here's to the hero, The hero, the hero; Oh, here's to the hero That taught men to dine! When joy is at zero, At zero, at zero; When joy is at zero, What solace like wine!
_Chorus._ Till he's drunk, or quite near it, No soldier will shrink, But cry shame on the spirit Too craven to drink.
"When we taste the rare liquor, Rare liquor, rare liquor; When we taste the rare liquor That tickles our throats, Our hearts they beat quicker, Beat quicker, beat quicker; Our hearts they beat quicker, Which clearly denotes
_Chorus._ That till drunk, or quite near it, No soldier should shrink, But cry shame on the spirit Too craven to drink."
Scarcely was this song ended when the sonorous voice of Uncle Raoul arose:
"Oh, I am a drinker, I, For I'm built that way; Let every man stick to his taste, Each dog have his day! The drinker he frights dull care To flight with a song-- He serves the jolliest god, And he serves him long!
"Let José go fighting and put The Dutchman to rout, But I'll win my laurels at home In the drinking-bout!