"Two quarts of the best wine, at twelve sous, three crusts of wheaten bread, and a harlequin,"[5] said the Chourineur, after considering for a few moments what he should order.
[5] A "harlequin" is a collection of odds and ends of fish, flesh, and fowl, after they come from table, which the Parisian, providing for the class to which the Chourineur belongs, finds a profitable and popular composition.
"Ah! you are a dainty dog, I know, and as fond as ever of them harlequins."
"Well, now, Goualeuse," said the Chourineur, "are you hungry?"
"No, Chourineur."
"Would you like anything better than a harlequin, my lass?" said Rodolph.
"No, I thank you; I have no appetite."
"Come, now," said the Chourineur, with a brutal grin, "look my master in the face like a jolly wench. You have no objection, I suppose?"
The poor girl blushed, and did not look at Rodolph. A few moments afterwards, and the ogress herself placed on the table a pitcher of wine, bread, and a harlequin, of which we will not attempt to give an idea to the reader, but which appeared most relishing to the Chourineur; for he exclaimed, "Dieu de Dieu! what a dish! What a glorious dish! It is a regular omnibus; there is something in it to everybody's taste. Those who like fat can have it; so can they who like lean; as well as those who prefer sugar, and those who choose pepper. There's tender bits of chicken, biscuit, sausage, tarts, mutton-bones, pastry crust, fried fish, vegetables, woodcock's heads, cheese, and salad. Come, eat, Goualeuse, eat; it is so capital! You have been to a wedding breakfast somewhere this morning."
"No more than on other mornings. I ate this morning, as usual, my ha'porth of milk, and my ha'porth of bread."