Pere Leonard 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. Pere Leonard 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 Pere Leonard;
another had but one eye, and drank so much that it made him stupid; the
third was young and not a bad-looking fellow; but he attempted to be
witty, and said such insane things that one could but pity him.
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