the work exposes him, the conduct of his wife when he is away from home dispatching trains. And the Frenchman would garnish this ditty with certain pointed speculations of his own, directed at the station-master of each town, concerning the probable whereabouts, at that moment, of the station-master’s wife.
Sometimes the answer to this ribald banter would be curses, oaths and maddened imprecations from the station-master; sometimes the answer would be a good-natured one, as rough and ready in its coarse spontaneity as the Frenchman’s own, but whatever the result, the Frenchman was always ready with a reply.
“Are you speaking from your own experience?” one of the station-masters yelled ironically. “Is that the way your old woman behaves when you leave home?”
“Parbleu! Oui!” the Frenchman roared back cheerfully. “Why not? The meat is all the sweeter for a little extra seasoning.”
This sally was rewarded by a scream of delighted laughter from the peasant women, and the jester, thus encouraged, continued:
“Parbleu! Do you think I’d play the miser with the old girl, when I’ve had so much myself? But, no, my friend! What the devil! My old girl’s no rare canary who’ll fade away the first time that you look at her. The devil, no! There’s good stuff there, sound and solid as an ox, old boy, and lots more where the last batch came from!”
At this delicate sally there were roars and screams of delighted laughter from the peasant women in the train, and when the commotion had somewhat subsided, one could hear the voice of the station-master from the platform, yelling back ironically:
“Good! Since there’s enough for everyone, I’ll come round to get my share!”
“Parbleu! Why not?” the high, sanguinary voice responded instantly. “Turn about’s fair play, as the saying goes—I’ve played the cock to many a station-master’s hen—”
Roars of laughter.
“And I’d be the last fellow in the world to begrudge him now—” he would conclude triumphantly, and the train would move off to the accompaniment of roars of laughter, ribaldry, and lusty and derisive banter, above which the high, rich energy of the Frenchman’s voice, crying out, —“Parbleu! Oui! Why not?” was always dominant.
He left the train at one of the little stations near Orléans, departing amid a rough but good-natured chorus of jeers, jibes, and derisive yells which
