The dinner hour arrived, but Monsieur Capucine did not. They waited another half-hour; but the two boys complained so loudly of hunger, that it was decided to adjourn to the table.
First came a thin soup, then a rabbit-stew, then a roasted rabbit.
Cherami, seeing nothing but rabbit, made a wry face, and muttered under his breath:
"Apparently they are on a rabbit diet here. And that miserable Capucine doesn't come! To have nothing to eat but rabbit, and not obtain a second! what, in God's name, did I come to this hole for?"
By way of vegetables, of which there were none, a dish of minced rabbit, stuffed with chestnuts, was served.
"It's very strange that my husband doesn't come!" said the corpulent dame; "he must have had some order to be filled in a hurry."
"And then, perhaps he doesn't like rabbit?" suggested Cherami.
"Oh! yes, he eats it."
"What's that? Par la sambleu! I eat it, too, and I've been eating it for an hour, but I don't like it any better for that."
"You don't like it? What a pity! there's more of it coming!"