"Give us whatever you please, but give us something at least."

"You shall be served instantly."

Master Bonneau was well pleased to give them rabbit stew; it was the dish in which he most excelled, for he had had twenty years' practice in making good ones. He seized the saucepan containing the remnants of two rabbits, and placed it over the fire; then after covering it, he instructed Fanfan to watch it, and went to carry the fresh eggs to his guests.

"You see, mesdames, that I am prompt," he said as he gracefully placed the eggs on the table. "By the way, I thought that a souffle of potatoes and orange blossoms would not displease the company."

"What, monsieur, do you make souffles at the Epee Couronnee?"

"Yes, monsieur, and a good sort too, I flatter myself."

"Then you are an expert?"

"Why, monsieur, when one has learned the profession at Paris, at the Boisseau Fleuri, one is equal to anything."

"Oho! that makes a difference! If you are a graduate of the Boisseau Fleuri, we are surprised at nothing, and we await your souffles with confidence."

Bonneau retired, all puffed up with the compliments they had paid him.

The ladies tried to crumble their bread into their eggs, but it was impossible; they were cooked so hard that they had to make up their minds to remove the sh.e.l.ls and eat them from their hands. Adeline shouted with laughter, Madame Germeuil shook her head, and Edouard announced that to cap the climax the eggs smelled of straw.

"This does not give me a very pleasant antic.i.p.ation of the souffles,"

said the mother, placing her egg on the table.

"Well, madame, let us still hope! Great men, you know, pay no heed to small matters, and the pupil of the Boisseau Fleuri may well not know how to cook eggs."

Bonneau entered the room, carrying in his two hands an enormous dish of rabbit stew, which he placed in front of Edouard.

"Monsieur le traiteur, for a man equal to anything, you made rather a failure of our eggs; they are boiled hard and smell of straw."

"As for the straw, monsieur, you must know that I don't make the eggs myself, that depends entirely on the hens; as for the way they were cooked, that is entirely the fault of the water; I leave the eggs in the water five minutes; if the watch loses time while the eggs are in the water, the best cook might be deceived."

"True, you are right; luckily there are no eggs in a rabbit stew, and it isn't cooked by the minute."

"So you must tell me what you think of it; I will go now and make sure that your fowl is cooked to a turn."

Bonneau left the room, carrying his hard boiled eggs, which no one had touched, and which he proceeded to cut up and place on the salad, so that they would be paid for twice over; that was a clear gain; and in order that there might not be any further complaint of their smelling of the straw, the host took from his sideboard a certain oil, the taste of which was bound to predominate.

"Well," said Edouard, as he prepared to serve the ladies, "as we absolutely must eat rabbit stew, let us see if this one does our host credit. But what the deuce is there in it? It is a string. Can it be that the pupil of the Boisseau Fleuri puts whole rabbits into his stew?

This is attached to something, and I don't see the end of it. Parbleu!

we shall get the pieces that are tied, later. But what is this I see?

Look, mesdames--is it a thigh, or a head? These rabbits are most peculiarly constructed."

"Oh! bless my soul!" said Adeline, examining what Edouard had on his fork, "it's a cup-and-ball!"

The young woman dropped her fork, laughing like mad; Edouard did the same, and even Madame Germeuil could not keep a straight face, at sight of the toy which her son-in-law had found in the stew.

The reader will remember that at the time of the arrival of the fashionable guests from Paris, everything was in confusion in the restaurant; the scullion was playing with a cup-and-ball; when his mistress burned herself and upset the tub of water, Fanfan was alarmed, and fearing to be scolded by his master and mistress, had thrust his cup-and-ball into the first saucepan that he saw. It happened to be the one containing the rabbit stew, into which the scullion had put his toy.

When Master Bonneau took the saucepan later, he covered it without looking in; then the little fellow had watched and stirred the stew, without a suspicion of what was in it; he was very far from thinking that he was cooking his own cup-and-ball.

"Aha!" said the host, "it seems that our friends are satisfied; I was sure that that rabbit stew would restore their good humor. So much the better! the result will be that the fowl will pa.s.s the more readily. We must make haste and serve it with the salad. Goton, give me the bottle of oil. That's it. Have you put the eggs on yet? on the top of the salad? Good! that's very good. This meal will bring us in enough to last a week."

Our man returned to the dining-room, where they had made up their minds to laugh instead of dining. He placed the fowl on the table and stood silent, with the air of a man who expects a compliment.

"On my word, monsieur le traiteur," said Edouard, trying to keep a sober face, "you treat us very strangely! What kind of a thing is a frica.s.see of cup-and-ball?"

"What do you mean, monsieur?"

"That we never had such a thing before, Monsieur Bonneau, and that we don't like it."

"But what does it mean?"

"Look, monsieur, is this rabbit?"

Master Bonneau was thunderstruck when he saw the cup-and-ball covered with gravy.

"Here," said Adeline, "take away your rabbit stew; what we found in it has taken away all desire to taste it."

"Madame, I am really distressed at what I see! But you must realize that it is not my fault. If rabbits eat cups-and-b.a.l.l.s----"

"Ah! this is too much; and if your fowl is no better than the rest, we shall have to go elsewhere to dine."

The host left the room, without waiting to hear any more; he rushed back to the kitchen, crimson with rage, and began to pull Fanfan's ears, to teach him to put cups-and-b.a.l.l.s in his stews.

"What on earth is the matter, my dear?" Madame Bonneau asked her husband, as she brought him the plate containing the remedy for burns.

"What's the matter? What's the matter? This little scamp is forever doing foolish things! He stuffs all sorts of trash into my stews; the other day I found two corks in a chowder; luckily it was for drunkards who took them for mushrooms; but to-day we have some people who are very particular, and he is responsible for their not tasting my rabbit stew; and that too, just at the moment when I carried them that unlucky fowl!

The little scamp is as dirty as if he were employed in some low cook-shop! Wife, sc.r.a.pe your burn carefully, you still have some potato on it. Well! I must repair my reputation with the souffle."

While Bonneau labored over the souffle, Edouard was trying to carve the fowl, and Madame Germeuil seasoned the salad. But in vain did the young man turn and return the old turkey; it was all dried up, because it had been on the fire so much, and the knife was powerless to pierce it.

"I must give it up," said Edouard, pushing the dish away.

"It is impossible to eat this oil," said Madame Germeuil, who had just tasted the salad.

"Evidently we shan't dine to-day," said Adeline.

"Faith, mesdames," said Edouard, rising from the table, "I don't think it worth while to wait for the potato souffle, in which we should undoubtedly find pieces of fish. Put on your shawls and bonnets while I go and say a word to the restaurant keeper, who really seems to have intended to make sport of us."

"But pray don't lose your temper, my dear! Remember that the wisest way is to laugh at everything that has happened; is it not, mamma?"

"Yes, my daughter; but still we ought not to pay for such a dinner as this."

Edouard left the room and went toward the kitchen. As he was about to enter the common room, the voice of one of the servants reached his ear; he heard the word souffle, and stopped by the gla.s.s door, curious to learn the subject of their discussion; there he overheard the following conversation:

"I tell you, Marianne, I wouldn't eat that stuff that our master's making now, not even if he would pay me for doing it."

"Then you're very hard to suit! That's a delicacy that he's making."

"A pretty kind of delicacy! and it will taste nice!"