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“What size were the trout, Garrigou?” “As big as that, your reverence.... Enormous!” “Oh heavens! I think I see them.... Have you put the wine in the vessels?” “Yes, your reverence, I have put the wine in the vessels.... But la! it is not to be compared to what you will drink presently, when the midnight mass is over. If you only saw that in the dining hall of the château!
Like hard-working vintagers pressing grapes in a vat, both wade through the Latin of the Mass, splashing it on all sides. "Dom scum!" says Balaguère. "Stutuo!" responds Garrigou, and all the while the damnable chime sounds in their ears, like those little bells put on the post-horses to make them gallop more swiftly. Believe me, under such conditions a low Mass is vastly expedited!
From The Fig and the Idler, an Algerian Legend, and Other Stories, by Alphonse Daudet. London, T. Fisher Unwin, 1892. “Two truffled turkeys, Garrigou?” “Yes, your reverence, two magnificent turkeys, stuffed with truffles. I should know something about it, for I myself helped to fill them. One would have said their skin would crack as they were roasting, it is that stretched....” “Jesu-Maria!
Thus endeth the translation of these Three Worshipful Kings: Melchior, Balthazar, and Jaspar. A French Yeoman's Legend. "He laughed fit to make the plates rattle, his little brown eyes twinkling all the while." Erckmann-Chatrian. "Two truffled turkeys, Garrigou?" "Yes, reverend Father, two magnificent turkeys stuffed with truffles. There's no mistake, for I helped to stuff them myself.
Ah! it will make you very happy to be there, reverend Father. Why, only to smell the delicious turkeys the odor of truffles pursues me even yet. Muh!" "Come, come, Garrigou, you must guard against the sin of greediness, and especially on the night of the Nativity. Quickly, now, light the candles and sound the first bell for Mass; midnight is very near, and we must not be late."
Thus it happened that M. de Monpavon had quite close to him and it was a sight to watch how the disdainful curve of his nose was accentuated at each glance in that direction the singer Garrigou, a fellow-countryman of Jansoulet, a distinguished ventriloquist who sang Figaro in the dialect of the south, and had no equal in his imitations of animals.
You may laugh at it if you like, but a vine-dresser of the place, named Garrigue, doubtless a descendant of Garrigou, declared to me that one Christmas night, when he was a little tipsy, he lost his way on the hill of Trinquelague; and this is what he saw.... Till eleven o’clock, nothing. All was silent, motionless, inanimate.
For instance Monpavon had very near him and you should have seen how the disdainful curve of his nose was accentuated at every glance in his direction Garrigou the singer, a countryman of Jansoulet, distinguished as a ventriloquist, who sang Figaro in the patois of the South and had not his like for imitating animals.
You may laugh if you will, but a vine-dresser of the neighborhood named Garrigue, without doubt a descendant of Garrigou, has assured me that one Christmas night, finding himself a little so-so-ish, he became lost on the mountain beside Trinquelague, and behold what he saw! At eleven o'clock, nothing. All was silent, dark, lifeless.
This conversation was held on Christmas night, in the year of grace sixteen hundred and sixteen, between the reverend Dom Balaguère, formerly prior of Barnabites, now chaplain in the service of the Sires de Trinquelague, and his clerk Garrigou; or at least what he supposed was his clerk Garrigou, because you will learn that the devil had that night taken on the round face and wavering traits of the young sacristan, the better to tempt the reverend Father to commit the dreadful sin of gluttony.
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