The three suitors were sitting at a table laden with food and wine,
which were kept there for them through the whole of Sunday morning; for
Père Léonard loved to exhibit his opulence, nor was the widow sorry to
display her fine plate and to keep open house like a woman of means.
Germain, simple and trustful as he was, did not lack penetration in his
observation of things, and for the first time in his life he stood on
the defensive while drinking. Père Léonard had compelled him to take a
seat with his rivals, and, seating himself opposite him, he treated him
as handsomely as possible, and devoted himself to him with evident
partiality. The gift of game, despite the breach Germain had made in it
on his own account, was still considerable enough to produce an effect.
The widow seemed to appreciate it, and the suitors eyed it disdainfully.

Germain felt ill at ease in that company, and did not eat with any
heartiness. Père Léonard rallied him about it.--"You seem very down in
the mouth," he said, "and you're sulking with your glass. You mustn't
let love spoil your appetite, for a fasting lover can't find so many
pretty things to say as the man who has sharpened up his wits with a
mouthful of wine."

Germain was mortified that it should be assumed that he was in love; and
the affected demeanor of the widow, who lowered her eyes with a smile,
like one who is sure of her game, made him long to protest against his
alleged surrender; but he feared to seem discourteous, so he smiled and
took patience.

The widow's lovers seemed to him like three rustic clowns. They must
have been rich, or she would not have listened to their suits. One of
them was more than forty, and was about as stout as Père Léonard;
another had but one eye, and drank so much that it made him stupid; the