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A lad of sixteen, vigorous and agile, with an incipient mustache, stepped forward. "They are my wife's sons, monsieur." "In Heaven's name, your card!" cried De Loignac. "Lardille!" cried the Gascon to his wife, "come and help me." Lardille searched the pouch and pockets of her husband, but uselessly. "We must have lost it!" she cried. "Then I arrest you."
There remained two holes made by the daggers of the robbers, but Pertinax had had them embroidered in gold. Eustache de Miradoux did not shine; he had had to clothe Lardille, Militor, and the two children. All the gentlemen were there admiring each other, when M. de Loignac entered frowning, and placed himself in front of them, with a countenance anything but agreeable.
The man turned pale, but said, "I am Eustache de Miradoux, and M. de St. Maline is my patron." "Oh!" said De Loignac, a little mollified at this name, "well, search again." They turned to their pockets again, and began to re-examine them. "Why, what do I see there, on the sleeve of that blockhead?" said De Loignac. "Yes, yes!" cried the father. "I remember, now, Lardille sewed it on."
"They are almost all half drunk," said De Loignac; "it would be a good opportunity to make them repeat their histories, only time does not permit of it." Then he added aloud, "Hola! M. Fournichon, dismiss from the room all women, children and lackeys." Lardille retired grumbling, but Militor did not move. "Did you not hear, M. Militor," said De Loignac; "to the kitchen!"
Thus the noble Lardille de Chavantrade had prepared a dish of mutton stewed with carrots and spices, after the method of Gascony, to which Militor had occasionally aided by trying the pieces of meat and vegetable with a fork.
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