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But what are you about?" "Going to my assembly." "Without eating a piece of my carp?" "Ah I true; you know still less of eating than drinking. M. Boutromet, what is the name of this animal?" The innkeeper looked astonished. "A capon," said he. "A capon!" cried Chicot, with an air of consternation. "Yes, and a fine one." "Well!" said Gorenflot, triumphantly.
"To his health," cried Gorenflot, interrupting a hearty laugh to swallow his wine. "M. Claude, put this carp at once on the spit, cover it with fresh butter, with shalots in it, and put some toast in the frying-pan, and serve it hot." Gorenflot approved with a motion of his head. "Now, M. Boutromet, some sardines and a tunny fish, meanwhile; it is Lent, and I wish to make a maigre dinner.
"Yet, I feel sure I awoke this morning at the Corne d'Abondance." "Well, of course; you came in again at three o'clock. I know; you left the door open, and made me cold." "It is true, then?" "True! ask M. Boutromet." "M. Boutromet?" "Yes, he opened to you on your return.
He then untied the monk's robe, and pulled it off; then rolled Gorenflot in the tablecloth, and covered his head with a napkin, and hiding the monk's frock under his cloak, passed into the kitchen. "M. Boutromet," said he, "here is for our supper, and for my horse; and pray do not wake the worthy Brother Gorenflot, who sleeps sound." "No, no; be easy, M. Chicot." Then Chicot ran to the rue St.
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