He had already opened a door at the end of it by the time Peter got there, and was halfway up a flight of wood stairs that curved up in front of them out of what was, obviously, a kitchen.
A huge man turned his head as Peter came in, and surveyed him silently, his hands dexterously shaking a frying-pan over a fire as he did so.
"Bon jour, monsieur," said Peter politely.
Monsieur grunted, but not unpleasantly, and Peter gripped the banister and commenced to ascend.

Half-way up he was nearly sent flying down again.

A rosy-cheeked girl, short and dark, with sparkling eyes, had thrust herself down between him and the rail from a little landing above, and was shouting: "Une omelette aux champignons.Jambon.Pommes sautes, s'il vous plait." Peter recovered himself and smiled.

"Bon jour, mademoiselle," he said, this time.

In point of fact, he could say very little else.
"Bon jour, monsieur," said, the girl, and something else that he could not catch, but by this time he had reached the top in time to witness a little 'business' there.