Chapter XLII: The Pie

Ten days after the receipt of the letter containing the thousand francs, Roncherolle was walking on the boulevard, alert and active, feeling not a trace of his gout, and wrapped in a warm, stylish overcoat, with a new hat on his head, patent leather shoes on his feet, in a word, dressed with a care and elegance which changed him completely and made him look almost like a young man.

In front of the Gymnase Theatre, Roncherolle felt a hand on his arm, and he turned and recognized his former neighbor, young Alfred de Saint-Arthur.

"Ah! good-morning, my dear monsieur, delighted to meet you!"

"Good-morning, my dear Monsieur de Roncherolle. I can no longer say my neighbor, for you are not my neighbor now. You went off like a bomb without telling me, without leaving me your address; that was very unkind. That idiot of a Beauvinet,--you know, the young man at the hotel,--insisted upon it that you lived at Passage I-don't-know-where. Ah! that was a good one! that was very good!"

"You didn't try to find me at that place?"

"Oh, no! I wasn't taken in by that blockhead of a Beauvinet. I said to myself: 'My neighbor must have had reasons for moving and not leaving his address; such things happen every day, and indeed I think that it may happen to me very soon.'--But I regretted you all the same; on my word of honor I regretted you."

"That is too kind of you."

"But there was someone who regretted you much more than I did. Can't you guess?"

"Faith, no."

"It was Zizi--you know--Zizi Dutaillis."

"Oh, yes! I remember perfectly--a very agreeable little woman."

"Well, you made a conquest of her. Every day she said to me: 'Do find Monsieur de Roncherolle; invite me to dine again with Monsieur de Roncherolle; I want him to teach me other ways of--you know what.'--In fact, I never see her that she doesn't talk about you, and if you were younger and--and--and fresher, I should be jealous of you."

"Thanks, thanks, a thousand times!"

"By the way, allow me to congratulate you; you walk very well; have you got rid of your gout?"

"For the time; it has held me pretty tight this fall."

"And you have a bearing, a style--that coat you have on is very well-made, very well-cut, and of handsome cloth; is it wadded?"

"As you say."

"On my word of honor! I don't say it to flatter you, but in that overcoat you look ten years younger!"

"In that case I am very sorry that I have only one."

"By the way, let me tell you that I have profited by your lessons--you know, the way to drink champagne,--two glasses, one on top of the other, in a plate."

"Yes; well?"

"I have succeeded, I can do it; to be sure, I broke a dozen glasses, but I succeeded; your pupil does you credit."

"I never doubted your ability--to drink champagne."

"And that isn't all: you know my parrot, that I was teaching--the one that led to our becoming acquainted?"

"Yes, I remember him; is he dead?"

"No indeed; he is as well as you or I. But the delightful part of it is that I have succeeded again."

"Really, you have made great progress since we last met."

"My parrot says now what I wanted him to."

"That was 'Good-morning, Monsieur Brillant,' I believe?"

"No, deuce take it! he said that too much! He says--and only since yesterday, so you see that it isn't an old story--he says: 'Dutaillis is lovely! applaud, clap Zizi!'"

"Ah! if he says all that, it's very fine; your friend must be enchanted."

"I haven't given him to her yet, because it was only yesterday that he said the whole sentence; and you understand that, before giving him to Zizi, I wanted to be certain that he wouldn't make a mistake, that he wouldn't make a slip of the tongue."

"That was decidedly prudent on your part."

"By the way, an idea, a splendid idea has just occurred to me!"

"The deuce! try to hold on to it."

"You must be kind enough to dine with Zizi and me. In the first place, you owe us more lessons in champagne drinking."

"Really, you are very tempting, but----"

"Listen: during the dinner, I will have my parrot brought in, in--no matter what, I will find something--and he will deliver his compliment to my wife; you know we say 'my wife' now in speaking of a mistress, and she says 'my husband.'"

"I didn't know that, and I confess that I should prefer anything else."

"And what do you say to my idea about the bird? Fancy Zizi's surprise when she hears a compliment, and doesn't know where it comes from!"

"Why yes, that may well be amusing."

"Then it is agreed; we will dine together the day after to-morrow. Yes, two days more, and then I shall be very sure that my parrot won't make a mistake. Just we three will dine together, to laugh as loud as we please, and talk nonsense; and at Bonvalet's as before. You agree, do you not, my dear neighbor? I say 'my dear neighbor' from habit."

"Excuse me, my dear Saint-Arthur, your invitation is certainly very kind, but----"

"Oh! no buts! Zizi will be so pleased to dine with you again! you can't refuse."

"I accept, but on one condition."

"Well, what is it? Speak; I agree to it in advance."

"Well, it is that your friend, Monsieur Jericourt, shall also be of the party as before."

"The deuce! you surprise me! you want Jericourt to be one of us? Why, I thought that you didn't like him."

"I say again, if you wish to have me, have that gentleman too; I have a special reason for wishing to meet him."

"That makes a difference; in that case, I will invite him; he shall be one of us. I have not seen so much of him lately. He lives in the Chaussee d'Antin. He puts on a lot of airs because he has had a play accepted at the Odeon.--But no matter, he will come."

"Don't mention me to him; I fancy that that would make him disinclined to come."

"I will mention nothing but the bird to him."

"What I ask you will not annoy mademoiselle, I hope?"

"Annoy her? why, pray? She will worry Jericourt, and we will laugh at him.--I may rely upon you now, may I not?"

"Absolutely."

"Until the day after to-morrow then, at half-past five, at Bonvalet's."

"I shall not fail you."

Saint-Arthur shook Roncherolle's hand and left him; Roncherolle continued his walk, but more slowly, like a person too much engrossed to notice what is going on about him.

On the second day thereafter, about five o'clock in the afternoon, Roncherolle, who had taken much pains with his toilet, walked toward the booth of the pretty flower girl of the Chateau d'Eau.

Violette greeted her neighbor with a pleasant smile, saying:

"Ah! what a pleasure it is to see you like this, monsieur! how well you look! no one would ever suspect that you had been so sick."

"If I have recovered my health, it is due to you, my dear child, due to your nursing, to your pleasant company."

"Oh! monsieur, you forget that syrup which did you so much good, which cured you."

"Perhaps the syrup may have had something to do with it, but you had much more."

"Are you going to walk, monsieur? It is cold, but fine."

"I am going to dine out, my little neighbor; a feast at Monsieur Bonvalet's, nothing less."

"Oh! do be prudent then, monsieur; they say, you know, that with gout you mustn't drink champagne."

"But I no longer have the gout."

"True, but suppose that should bring it back again?"

"We mustn't anticipate misfortunes so far ahead. However, I will be prudent, and in order that I may not forget your advice, I will ask you for a small bunch of violets."

"With pleasure, monsieur.--See, is this one big enough?"

"Quite big enough; be kind enough to fasten it tight into my buttonhole."

"Gladly; there, now it is done, and I promise you that it won't come out.--That is very nice! you look as if you were my true knight now."

"And so I am, my child," replied Roncherolle, emphasizing his words, "and I hope to perform the duties of the post."

"Why, how solemnly you say that!"

"Au revoir, my dear neighbor, au revoir!"

The young flower girl looked after Roncherolle, overcome by an emotion which she could not understand, and still murmuring:

"How he said that! I will bet that he has some purpose in wearing that bouquet in his buttonhole."

Meanwhile, Roncherolle, who did not propose to keep the others waiting, soon arrived at Bonvalet's, where he found the young actress and Saint-Arthur. Mademoiselle Zizi expressed all the pleasure that she felt at renewing her acquaintance with the professor of champagne, and said to him, scrutinizing him from head to foot:

"Why, how fine we are! how coquettish we are! we walk almost without limping, and we have such a _chicarde_ air!--you look after yourself, you do, whereas Alfred takes no care of himself at all."

"What's that? I take no care of myself?"

"No, monsieur; your cravats have been wretchedly tied lately, and your trousers don't fit as tight as they used to."

"They are not worn tight now."

"If I want you to wear tight ones, why it seems to me that you ought to adopt my taste.--Ah! what a pretty bunch of violets you have there, old fellow! where did you get that, you old Cupid? From some charmer, I will wager!"

"It is true that I got them from a charming young girl."

"Aha! give us the story; tell us all about it."

"I will tell you about it, but not now; at dessert, with your permission; it will have all the more charm."

"All right, at dessert it is. By the way, so you wanted to dine with Jericourt, did you? When Alfred told me that, I confess that I was mightily surprised, you agreed so badly the other time. I said to myself: 'There's something underneath this; Monsieur de Roncherolle has invented some practical joke, some farce that he proposes to play on him;' am I right?"

"I don't say no; but don't ask any more questions; I am keeping that also in reserve for the dessert."

"Well, well! it seems that we shall laugh at dessert."

"Yes, yes," said Saint-Arthur with a meaning glance at Roncherolle. "Oh yes! our dinner will be most amusing, and we shall laugh, I trust, at dessert. We shall have some surprises, some unexpected incidents."

"What on earth is that idiot talking about? He assumes a mysterious air. Frefred, I have an idea that you have some gallant attention in store for me--is it true, my adored one?"

"I can't tell you anything; you will see!"

This conversation was interrupted by Jericourt's arrival. That gentleman seemed surprised at sight of Roncherolle; however, he manifested no annoyance, and saluted the party with a smile.

"Aha! Jericourt doesn't keep us waiting to-day; that is magnificent!" cried Zizi; "but something extraordinary must have happened to him."

"Nothing has happened to me but the desire to be in your company as soon as possible, fair lady."

"Well! what did I say? that is extraordinary enough!"

While the literary man addressed a few words to the young actress, Saint-Arthur approached Roncherolle and whispered in his ear:

"I have thought of a delightful way to have my bird come in and speak, without being seen."

"Indeed! what is it?"

"A pie--you know, like those they have on the stage; it will be brought in and put on the table, and the parrot will be inside."

"That may be amusing, in truth; but on the stage pasteboard pies may create an illusion; here, on the contrary, seen at such close quarters, I am afraid that it will miss its effect."

"Oh! I anticipated that, and so it will have a genuine pie crust. I gave my orders to Beauvinet, and he is to take the bird to an excellent pastry cook, who is to cover it with the crust; then Beauvinet will bring us the pie."

"That makes a difference; in that case, the illusion will be perfect."

"Isn't it an ingenious plan?"

"But aren't you afraid that your parrot will stifle in the pie?"

"Why so? They are shut up in cages."

"True, but I should say that they have more air there."

"Bah! just for a short time. Besides, I told Beauvinet to tell them to make some little holes on top, so that he may have light, and that we may hear him plainly."

"In that case, everything will be all right."

They took their places at the table. Jericourt treated Roncherolle with the utmost ceremony; but from time to time, he cast his eyes upon the bunch of violets which the latter wore in his buttonhole, and then a mocking smile played about his lips; but Roncherolle apparently did not notice it.

"The champagne lessons will come with the dessert," said Saint-Arthur, "because they always disarrange the table a bit. We spill the champagne over ourselves, so it is better to wait."

"It is all one to me," said Zizi; "I am quite willing to wait now, for I have fallen violently in love with madeira."

"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 principal 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.'"

[B]

I said: 'pour qu'on l'entende bien.'
I understood: 'pour qu'on le sente bien.'

At that point, roars of laughter from Zizi, Roncherolle and Jericourt made it impossible to hear the groans and lamentations of Alfred, who, in a fit of desperation, attempted to throw the pie at Beauvinet's head; but he was prevented, and Roncherolle said to him:

"As the harm is done, we must make the best of it; as I presume that no one here has ever eaten parrot pie, I suggest that we taste it."

"Yes, let us taste it," said Zizi. "I will tell this story at the theatre, and my comrades will have a good laugh at it."

"It doesn't make me laugh! the result of such long-continued toil; and just at the moment when I had finished his education, and when he began to talk so famously!"

"Will you have a little piece, Saint-Arthur?"

"I? never! but yes--just a taste.--That rascally pastry cook! he was quite right to say that no one would know what it was; but he will have to give me back the feathers, at least."

"Pouah! how nasty it is," said Zizi, pushing her plate away. "So tough that you can't chew it."

"And a certain flavor which is not exactly agreeable," said Jericourt. "The pastry cook did not disguise it quite enough."

"Here, take all this away," said Roncherolle, handing the plate with the pie to Beauvinet; "and for your punishment, eat it!"

"Yes, clear out with it, you stupid beast!" cried Saint-Arthur. "Off with you, and if I wasn't holding myself back--What an ass he is! I am sure that if one should tell him to take a dog to the pastry-cook he would have it made into a pie."

Beauvinet took the pie under his arm, and angrily pulled his wig over his right ear, grumbling: "They don't know what they want; I do what they tell me to, and they ain't satisfied! Let them make their pies themselves after this."