“Master Frantz,” he said, “introduce me that into your organism, and then tell me what you think of it.”
At the same moment he noticed that the bottle was empty, and uttered an exclamation of surprise—
“Soffayel! don’t you know that black-pudding likes to swim?”
The servant, ashamed of her forgetfulness, hurried away to the cellar; but in the kitchen she met Tapihans, and said to him, in a bantering tone—
“Aha!—poor Tapihans, poor Tapihans! The cuckoo sings in the house; you’d better go and look for another nest!”
Directly afterwards, Tapihans, yellow and pale, with pointed nose, long ears, and a cotton cap on the top of his head, a hunch on his back, and his hands tucked in the pockets of his grey waistcoat, appeared in the doorway.
“Ah! is that you, Tapihans?” cried Coucou Peter; “you’ve come just in time to see us eat.”
The little man advanced into the very middle of the room, and for some seconds looked at the company, but mostly at the illustrious Doctor and the widow, who did not deign even to turn her head towards him. His nose seemed to swell visibly; then, parting his lips, he said—
“Good evening, Dame Catherina.”
“Good evening,” she replied, swallowing a piece of pudding.