You can have it."
Then, little by little, the square became empty, and when the
Angelus[3] struck midday those who lived too far away to go home
betook themselves to the various inns.
At Jourdain's the common room was full of customers, as the great yard
was full of vehicles of every sort--carts, cabriolets,[4]
_char-a-bancs_, tilburys,[5] unnamable carriages, shapeless, patched,
with, their shafts reaching heavenward like arms, or with their noses
in the ground and their tails in the air.
The vast fireplace, full of clear flame, cast an intense heat against
the backs of the row on the right of the table. Three spits were
revolving, laden with chickens, pigeons, and legs of mutton; and a
delectable odor of roast meat, and of gravy dripping from the browned
skin, came forth from the hearth, stirred the guests to merriment, and
made their mouths water.
All the aristocracy of the plough ate there, at Mast' Jourdain's, the
innkeeper and horse trader--a shrewd rascal who had money.
The dishes passed and were soon emptied, like the jugs of yellow
cider. Every one told of his affairs, his sales and his purchases.
They inquired about the crops. The weather was good for green stuffs,
but a little wet for wheat.
Suddenly a drum rolled in the yard, in front of the house. In an
instant everybody was on his feet, save a few indifferent ones; and
they all ran to the door and windows with their mouths still full and
napkins in hand.
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