First came a thin soup, then a rabbit-stew, then a roasted rabbit.

Cherami, seeing nothing but rabbit, made a wry face, and muttered under his breath:

"Apparently they are on a rabbit diet here. And that miserable Capucine doesn't come! To have nothing to eat but rabbit, and not obtain a second! what, in G.o.d's name, did I come to this hole for?"

By way of vegetables, of which there were none, a dish of minced rabbit, stuffed with chestnuts, was served.

"It's very strange that my husband doesn't come!" said the corpulent dame; "he must have had some order to be filled in a hurry."

"And then, perhaps he doesn't like rabbit?" suggested Cherami.

"Oh! yes, he eats it."

"What's that? Par la sambleu! I eat it, too, and I've been eating it for an hour, but I don't like it any better for that."

"You don't like it? What a pity! there's more of it coming!"

"A rabbit-cream, perhaps?"

"No, a pie."

"Thanks; if you will allow me, I will take some cheese, as a pleasant subst.i.tute. Gad! I don't wonder that your yard is carpeted with rabbit-hutches; they are productive evidently."

"Much more so than fruit trees."

"Well, well! I see that you will end by preserving them. But your wine is good, that's something."

"Here's my aunt's health!"

"With great pleasure. Vive elisabeth!"

"Aristoloche and Narcisse, now recite your congratulations."

"What! have the dear children learned something by heart?"

"Yes, aunt; we'll show you."

"Oh! the dear loves, how sweet of them! Who wrote them?"

"My husband, aunt; they are in poetry!"

"Your husband writes poetry? I didn't know he had that talent; how long has he been a poet?"

"Since we have had for a customer a literary man who writes mottoes; he brings us some every time he comes to the house. Come, Aristoloche, begin. Go and stand in front of your aunt; and p.r.o.nounce your words plain."

LII

MADAME CAPUCINE'S LITTLE SONS

The little fellow tried first of all to obtain possession of the visitor's stick, and to gallop round the table astride it; they could not succeed in making him behave except by promising him that, if he would repeat his verses nicely, he should play with a rabbit which was very gentle and which was sometimes brought into the salon to entertain the company.

At last, Master Aristoloche took his stand in front of his great-aunt, and recited without stopping to take breath:

"'Ah! quel bonheur, en ce beau jour, De vous prouver tout mon amour!

Du plaisir, je suis dans l'attente, Quand je dois aller chez ma tante!

En amour comme en amitie Sachez tout mettre de moitie.'"

"It is easy to see that our papa knows a maker of mottoes," thought Cherami.

"What do you think of my husband's poetry?" asked Madame Capucine.

"It is the more ingenious in that it can be adapted to any possible occasion."

"And you, aunt?"

Madame Duponceau was delighted with the verses, and said to the boy, after giving him a kiss:

"Go and find the maid, and tell her to give you Coco to play with."

Master Aristoloche disappeared; it was his brother's turn to recite his congratulations; but young Narcisse was sulky; he rebelled.

"Well, monsieur," said his mother, "come and repeat your poetry to your aunt."

"No, I won't; it makes me sick."

"What do I hear, Monsieur Narcisse? What is the meaning of that answer?"

"I mean what I say; you always let Aristoloche play with Coco, and never let me."

"Will you hold your tongue--a great tall boy like you! just beginning to learn to write. You, want to play with the little rabbit!"

"Yes, I like rabbits, and I want to play with 'em."

"It seems to me," said Cherami, "that you ought not to be too hard on the child for liking rabbits; this is a good school for that. By dint of eating a thing, one sometimes ends by acquiring a taste for it. When I was a boy, I remember, I could not endure bread-soup, but they made me eat it every day to force me to like it."

"And you ended by liking it?"

"No; I detest it!"

"Come, Narcisse, come and recite your poetry to your dear aunt--if you don't, she won't give you another beautiful hat with feathers."

"I don't want any more of her feathers; they make me blind. Somebody told me that I looked like a trained dog in that hat."

"Look out, Monsieur Narcisse, or we shall be cross with you! Your poetry, this minute!"