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I know a little inn, which I think has no rival in Paris." "And I know one also; what is yours called?" "The 'Corne d'Abondance." "Ah!" "Well, what is it?" "Nothing." "Do you know anything against this house?" "Not at all." "You know it?" "No; and that astonishes me." "Shall we go there, compère?" "Oh! yes, at once." "Come, then." "Where is it?" "Near the Porte Bourdelle.
"Gallop then!" and he began to canter. Panurge again followed; Gorenflot was in agonies. "Oh, M. Chicot!" said he, as soon as he could speak, "do you call this traveling for pleasure? It does not amuse me at all." "On! on!" "It is dreadful!" "Stay behind then!" "Panurge can do no more; he is stopping." "Then adieu, compere!"
It is from this ambush that Cupid sends his most inciting arrows. While I was musing upon the recollections thus accidentally summoned up, I heard the sound of a fiddle from the mansion of Compere Martin, the signal, no doubt, for a joyous gathering.
"Not yet, compere, and that is why I woke you; we must get on; we go too slow, ventre de biche!" "Oh, no, dear M. Chicot; it is so fatiguing to go fast. Besides, there is no hurry: am I not traveling for the propagation of the faith, and you for pleasure? Well, the slower we go, the better the faith will be propagated, and the more you will amuse yourself.
He was gayest when out of his sight; and had his song and his joke when forward, among the deck passengers; but altogether Compere Martin was out of his element on board of a steamboat. He was quite another being, I am told, when at home in his own village.
"Oh, oh!" said M. Miton; "this man talks in a singular way. Do you know who he is, compere?" "No." "Then why do you speak to him? You are wrong. I do not think he likes to talk." "And yet it seems to me," replied Friard, loud enough to be heard by the stranger, "that one of the greatest pleasures in life is to exchange thoughts." "Yes, with those whom we know well," answered M. Miton.
There are no illusions left at all, in the good city of Tours, with regard to Louis XI. His terrible castle of Plessis, the picture of which sends a shiver through the youthful reader of Scott, has been reduced to suburban insignificance; and the residence of his triste compère, on the front of which a festooned rope figures as a motive for decoration, is observed to have been erected in the succeeding century.
The French have the words compère and commère; and it is curious to observe that the name of compère is given to the confederate of the juggler, who stands among the crowd, and slyly helps in the performance of the trick. We went one day to the Hospital of San Lazaro. I have mentioned the word "lepero" as applied to the poor and idle class of half-caste Mexicans.
Compere Martin, as he was commonly called, was the factotum of the place-sportsman, schoolmaster, and land surveyor. He could sing, dance, and, above all, play on the fiddle, an invaluable accomplishment in an old French Creole village, for the inhabitants have a hereditary love for balls and fetes; if they work but little, they dance a great deal, and a fiddle is the joy of their heart.
If Compere Martin now and then should venture to abstract a morsel from his plate to give to his humble companion, it was edifying to see with what diffidence the exemplary little animal would take hold of it, with the very tip of his teeth, as if he would almost rather not, or was fearful of taking too great a liberty. And then with what decorum would he eat it!
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