"Upon my word I am not."
"Indeed I should love it, general."
They put the whole calf in the oven, and when it was cooked Boudoux ate it all.
When he had picked the last bone, my father complimented him on his performance.
"I hope your hunger is satisfied now, Boudoux?" he said.
"Put the mother on the spit, general," replied Boudoux, "and you will see."
My father drew back, for he was fond of his cow, and Boudoux was likely to leave nothing of her but her horns.
I could cite other instances than this; but they would pale before the one I have just given.
One day at the opening of the hunting season M. Danré, of Vouty, had two dozen chickens on the spit. Boudoux looked at them as he had looked at my father's veal; and M. Danré was unwise enough to make a proposal to him similar to the one which had been made at our house.
Boudoux made twenty-four mouthfuls of the twenty-four chickens.