"To be sure! Monsieur Courtivaux was very fond of rabbits; he used to have one killed every week to eat."
"That's a curious way of loving animals!" said Madame Dalmont; "for my part, I could never make up my mind to kill a poor creature that I had fondled."
"Oh! nor I to eat one!" said Agathe.
"And then I am not wild for rabbit as food; and so, Monsieur Ledrux, if I buy the house, I will begin by making you a present of all there are here."
The peasant seemed greatly pleased by that promise; he put his hand to a little round hat which had lost both its color and its brim, and which did duty as a cap, and murmured:
"Madame is very good; I won't refuse 'em. Bless me! there's two females that breed; but still, if you don't like rabbit, I can understand your getting rid of 'em. They smell bad in the first place, and they ruin everything if you're unlucky enough to let 'em get into the garden. My word! what a wreck!—And what about the hens? if madame don't like them any better, I could take care of them too; they ain't very clean, the little devils; they go pecking round everywhere."
"Oh! hens are very different," said Honorine; "they give one fresh eggs, which are always very pleasant."
"Besides, it must be such fun to hunt for the eggs—to see if there are many of them. I'll take care of the hens, my dear friend. And then, they don't kill those poor creatures."
"Oh! yes they do; there's folks who fix 'em up with rice or little onions; and they're good too. And then you sometimes have some that won't lay or that fight with the others; them you don't keep—you eat 'em!"
"Ah! Monsieur Ledrux, you are very pitiless to everything that can be eaten! However, we will see, and when one of our hens maltreats her companions, why, you shall carry her off, that's all; but I don't propose to have any inhabitant of my poultry yard killed on my premises."