r's Translation.], forgetful of kin, native country, and all
social obligations whatever. Its vast walls of magnificent crust seemed
raised like the bulwarks of some rich metropolitan city, an emblem of
the wealth which they are designed to protect. There was a delicate
ragout, with just that petit point de l'ail [a little flavor of garlic.
The French is ungrammatical.] which Gascons love, and Scottishmen do
not hate. There was, besides, a delicate ham, which had once supported a
noble wild boar in the neighbouring wood of Mountrichart. There was the
most exquisite white bread, made into little round loaves called boules
(whence the bakers took their French name of boulangers), of which the
crust was so inviting, that, even with water alone, it would have been a
delicacy. But the water was not alone, for there was a flask of leather
called bottrine, which contained about a quart of exquisite Vin de
Beaulne. So many good things might have created appetite under the ribs
of death. What effect, then, must they have produced upon a youngster of
scarce twenty, who (for the truth must be told) had eaten little for the
two last days, save the scarcely ripe fruit which chance afforded him an
opportunity of plucking, and a very moderate portion of barley bread?
He threw himself upon the ragout, and the plate was presently vacant--he
attacked the mighty pasty, marched deep into the bowels of the land, and
seasoning his enormous meal with an occasional cup of wine, returned to
the charge again and again, to the astonishment of mine host, and the
amusement of Maitre Pierre.

The latter indeed, probably because he found himself the author of a
kinder action than he had thought of, seemed delighted with the appetite
of the young Scot; and when, at length, he observed that his exertions
began to languish, endeavoured to stimulate him to new efforts by
ordering confections, darioles [cream cakes], and any other light
dainties he could think of, to entice the youth to continue his meal.
While thus engaged, Maitre Pierre's countenance expressed a kind of good
humour almost amounting to benevolence, which appeared remote from its
ordinary sharp, caustic, and severe character. The aged almost always
sympathize with the enjoyments of youth and with its exertions of every
kind, when the mind of the spectator rests on its natural poise and is
not disturbed by inward envy or idle emulation.

Quentin Durward also, while thus agreeably employed,