“Give me back my hen!”
“Here she is. It isn’t too late; thirty sous.”
“I’d rather eat her!”
Monsieur Jarnouillard walked away, leaving Père Ledrux with his hen, which he looked at with an ill-humored air, then abruptly replaced under his jacket. Whereupon Beauregard, who had been much amused by the conversation that he had overheard, walked up to the peasant and said:
“I’ll buy your hen!”
“You, monsieur,” ejaculated the gardener, surprised by the offer of this fine gentleman, whom he had not previously observed.
“Yes, I; won’t you sell her to me?”
“Oh, yes! indeed I will; but it seems sort of strange that you should buy her, because you don’t look like a dealer in hens, or eggs.”
“In truth, that is not my business; but there must be a beginning to everything. I’ll give you a hundred sous for your hen; does that suit you?”
“A hundred sous! pardi! I should think it did suit me! She’s yours, monsieur.”