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Updated: June 25, 2025
They had wrangled all the thirty years they had been married; but Toine was good-humored, while his better-half grew angry. She was a tall peasant woman, who walked with long steps like a stork, and had a head resembling that of an angry screech-owl. She spent her time rearing chickens in a little poultry-yard behind the inn, and she was noted for her success in fattening them for the table.
"All right," said Toine; "only it keeps me fearfully hot." One morning his wife entered in a state of great excitement, and declared: "The yellow hen has seven chickens! Three of the eggs were addled." Toine's heart beat painfully. How many would he have? "Will it soon be over?" he asked, with the anguish of a woman who is about to become a mother.
"Wait a bit! Wait a bit!" said his wife. "You'll see." At last Toine had an apoplectic fit, and was paralyzed in consequence. The giant was put to bed in the little room behind the partition of the drinking-room that he might hear what was said and talk to his friends, for his head was quite clear although his enormous body was helplessly inert.
"Wait a bit! Wait a bit!" said his wife. "You'll see." At last Toine had an apoplectic fit, and was paralyzed in consequence. The giant was put to bed in the little room behind the partition of the drinking-room that he might hear what was said and talk to his friends, for his head was quite clear although his enormous body was helplessly inert.
They had wrangled all the thirty years they had been married; but Toine was good-humored, while his better-half grew angry. She was a tall peasant woman, who walked with long steps like a stork, and had a head resembling that of an angry screech-owl. She spent her time rearing chickens in a little poultry-yard behind the inn, and she was noted for her success in fattening them for the table.
The delighted spectators went off to spread the news of the event, and Horslaville, who was the last to go, asked: "You'll invite me when the first is cooked, won't you, Toine?" At this idea a smile overspread the fat man's face, and he answered: "Certainly I'll invite you, my son-in-law."
Toine's friends soon deserted the drinking room to come and chat every afternoon beside the invalid's bed. Helpless though he was, the jovial Toine still provided them with amusement. He would have made the devil himself laugh.
Well known indeed was Toine Burnt-Brandy, the stoutest man in all Normandy. His little house seemed ridiculously small, far too small and too low to hold him; and when people saw him standing at his door, as he did all day long, they asked one another how he could possibly get through the door.
Instead of manifesting his approach, as with others, in white hairs, in emaciation, in wrinkles, in the gradual collapse which makes the onlookers say: "Gad! how he has changed!" he took a malicious pleasure in fattening Toine, in making him monstrous and absurd, in tingeing his face with a deep crimson, in giving him the appearance of superhuman health, and the changes he inflicts on all were in the case of Toine laughable, comic, amusing, instead of being painful and distressing to witness.
The delighted spectators went off to spread the news of the event, and Horslaville, who was the last to go, asked: "You'll invite me when the first is cooked, won't you, Toine?" At this idea a smile overspread the fat man's face, and he answered: "Certainly I'll invite you, my son-in-law."
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