“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.
“Well I it seems I was wrong, but as I wish to eat this capon, and yet not sin, be so kind, brother, as to throw a few drops of water upon it, and christen it a carp.”
“Ah! ah!”
“Yes, I pray you, save me from mortal sin.”
“So be it,” cried Gorenflot, “but there is no water.”
“Oh! the intention is all; baptize it with wine, my brother; the animal will be less Catholic but quite as good.” And Chicot refilled the monk’s glass. The first bottle was finished.