A fine spring morning on the river Meuse, between Lorraine and Champagne, in the year A. Captain Robert de Baudricourt, a military squire, handsome and physically energetic, but with no will of his own, is disguising that defect in his usual fashion by storming terribly at his steward, a trodden worm, scanty of flesh, scanty of hair, who might be any age from 18 to 55, being the sort of man whom age cannot wither because he has never bloomed.
The two are in a sunny stone chamber on the first floor of the castle. At a plain strong oak table, seated in chair to match, the captain presents his left profile. The steward stands facing him at the other side of the table, if so deprecatory a stance as his can be called standing. The mullioned thirteenth-century window is open behind him.
Near it in the corner is a turret with a narrow arched doorway leading to a winding stair which descends to the courtyard. There is a stout fourlegged stool under the table, and a wooden chest under the window. No eggs! No eggs!! Thousand thunders, man, what do you mean by no eggs? Sir: it is not my fault.
It is the act of God. You tell me there are no eggs; and you blame your Maker for it. Sir: what can I do? I cannot lay eggs. No, sir, God knows. We all have to go without eggs just as you have, sir. The hens will not lay. What am I? What are you, sir? Oh, sir, you know you are a greater man here than the king himself. And now, do you know what you are? I am nobody, sir, except that I have the honor to be your steward. ROBERT [ driving him to the wall, adjective by adjective ] You have not only the honor of being my steward, but the privilege of being the worst, most incompetent, drivelling snivelling jibbering jabbering idiot of a steward in France.
I will give you neck a turn if you dare tell me, when I ask you how many eggs there are, that you cannot lay any. No: not oh sir, or sir, but no sir. My three Barbary hens and the black are the best layers in Champagne. And you come and tell me that there are no eggs! Who stole them? Tell me that, before I kick you out through the castle gate for a liar and a seller of my goods to thieves.
