The Flower Girl of The Chateau d'Eau Volume Ii Part 44

"And monsieur is arranging some lessons even more unique than the last, no doubt?" said Jericourt, addressing Roncherolle.

"Yes, monsieur; in fact, I am preparing a lesson for you, which, I fancy, you hardly expect."

Meanwhile, after the first course, Saint-Arthur betrayed the liveliest impatience, and kept ringing for the waiter and asking him:

"Has no one come to see me? Isn't there any messenger outside for me?"

"No, monsieur, no one has come."

"The deuce! he is very late!"

"What! are you expecting other guests?" said Jericourt.

"Yes,--that is to say, I am expecting something for the dinner."

"A surprise he has arranged for me," said Zizi; "I haven't any idea what it is, but I like to think that it will be superb!"

At last the waiter announced:

"Monsieur, there's a man here with a pie."

"Ah! very good! bravo! show him in."

"What! is your surprise a pie?" cried the young woman; "why, that is perfectly ridiculous. I don't like pie at dinner!"

"This one, my dear love, is not like most pies.--Come, Beauvinet, come in!"

The old young man from the lodging house appeared, bringing a very handsome pie, which he held as if it were the keys of a conquered town; he placed it on the table, looked about at everybody with a self-satisfied expression; then pulled his wig over his left ear.

Everybody looked at the pie, which had an inviting aspect. Saint-Arthur seemed overjoyed; he jumped up and down on his chair, exclaiming:

"Ah! I should say that that is the thing!"

"It is a very handsome pie," said Jericourt. "Where did it come from?

Strasbourg?"

"Oh, no! not from so far away."

"Come, Frefred," said Zizi, "if the pie is so delicious, cut into it and let us taste it."

"One moment, my dear love, one moment; it isn't to be cut into like that; I request silence for a moment, and attention."

And the young host, putting his face down to the pie, said in an undertone:

"Dutaillis is lovely.--Come, Coco, come, come!"

"What's this? Alfred is talking to the pie now!" cried Zizi, opening her eyes to their fullest extent.

"Hush, my dear love! hush I say!--Come, Coco--Dutaillis is--go on."

But in vain did they listen and wait; the pie maintained the most profound silence.

"Are you playing proverbs with the pie, my Bibi?"

"Yes, I am playing--that is to say, the pie is going to speak."

"The pie going to speak! ah! I would like right well to hear it, on my word!"

"Just a little patience. I can't understand what the matter is with him; he must have gone to sleep in there.--Coco, Coco--Dutaillis is lovely.--Ah! you won't speak, won't you? I will wake you up."

And Saint-Arthur, taking the huge pie in both hands, began to shake it with all his strength; then he replaced it on the table, saying:

"Will you speak now, you beast?"

While they waited again in silence, Monsieur Beauvinet ventured to blow his nose, which drew down upon his head a stern reprimand from his tenant.

"But whom are you calling a beast, and what is it that's in the pie?"

asked Mademoiselle Zizi, beginning to get tired of keeping still for nothing.

"Well, my dear love, it is a parrot, a magnificent parrot, which I have taught to say: 'Dutaillis is lovely! applaud, clap Zizi!'"

"Ah! the poor creature! is it possible? Why, he must be stifled in there; that's why he doesn't speak.--Monsieur de Roncherolle, take the crust off at once."

"Are all the windows closed?" asked Saint-Arthur; "we must look out that he doesn't fly away.--See to it, Beauvinet."

Beauvinet made a strange grimace, but did not stir.

"I have a shrewd idea that he won't fly away;" said Roncherolle, as he ran his knife around the crust of the pie.

"Look out, be careful, don't stick the knife in, or you will cut the bird."

"There's no danger."

At last the upper crust was taken off, and nothing came out of the pie.

They all put their heads forward to look inside; but instead of a living bird, they saw only what is always found in a chicken pie: jelly, and the stuffing around the princ.i.p.al piece, on top of which there was a slice of pork.

Saint-Arthur was stupefied; his guests with difficulty restrained their desire to laugh.

"What does this mean, Beauvinet? where is my bird, my parrot? what have you done with him?"

"Your bird is there, monsieur; I did what you told me to: I carried him to the pastry cook, and told him to put him into the pie."

"Ah! you villain! you miserable wretch! how could you fail to understand me? I told you that I only wanted the crust put around him."

"Well, there is nothing but crust around him."

"And I added: 'You must have holes made in the top to give him air, so that we may hear him plainly.'"

"I understood: 'So that we may smell him plainly;'[B] and the pastry cook said: 'I never make holes in my pies; your parrot will be a little tough, but I'll just lard him and stuff him, so that no one will ever know what it is.'"