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The abbé, who was taking the air at his door, begged of them to do him the honour of a visit, and, having introduced them into his breakfast-parlour, he gazed at them in a singular fashion. In the middle of the sideboard, between the plates, was a soup-tureen decorated with yellow bouquets. Pécuchet praised it, at a loss for something to say. "It is old Rouen," returned the curé; "an heirloom.
At that moment Eliza put the soup-tureen on the table. "Why, the soup is excellent! An excellent soup, Eliza!" "There is a chicken coming, Sir Owen, and Miss Innes told me to be sure to put plenty of butter on it before putting it into the oven, that that was the way you liked it cooked." "I am glad you did, Eliza; the buttering of the chicken is what we always overlook in England.
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