"Have you got a chicken to roast?"[G] queried Colinet. "I'll help you, if you want; I know all about chickens."
Georgette laughed aloud, and Monsieur de Mardeille tried to do the same; but his laughter was not sincere.
"We're not talking about chickens, my dear Colinet, nor of the kind of broche you have in mind," said the young shirtmaker, when her merriment had somewhat abated. "Oh! I don't live so magnificently as that; my repasts are more modest. Still, my friend, if you will breakfast with me to-morrow, before you go away, I will have a sausage and a meat pie; with those and a good appetite, one can breakfast perfectly—isn't that so?"
"To be sure, mamzelle; I won't fail to be here."
"If Monsieur de Mardeille would like to join us, and doesn't consider our breakfast unworthy of him, he would give us great pleasure by accepting my invitation."
Our dandy's face became radiant. He bowed and said:
"Unworthy of me! A repast over which you preside! Why, on the contrary, it will seem delicious to me, and I accept your kind invitation with all my heart. But I will ask your permission to bring a few bottles of wine from my cellar; that will do no harm."
"Oh! bring whatever you choose; we are not proud; we accept whatever anyone offers us."
"In that case, my charming neighbor, it's a bargain; I will breakfast with you to-morrow. Meanwhile, I will leave you, for you may have a thousand messages to give monsieur for your relations and friends, commissions to intrust to him, and I should be very sorry to incommode you. Au revoir, my dear neighbor!—Bonjour, monsieur, until to-morrow!—At what hour do you breakfast, neighbor?"
"At ten o'clock, monsieur."