"I, a passion! Fichtre! no—but I—— By the way, waiter, I expect a messenger. Let me know when anyone asks for me."
"The same with me," said Célestin.
"And me," cried Tobie, stuffing a handful of olives into his pocket; "let me know, waiter—for it's very important. I am Monsieur Tobie Pigeonnier. A messenger will ask for me."
"Do you propose to put all the olives in your pocket, Tobie?"
"I like them pocketed,[B] messieurs; they're much better."
"Yes," laughed Célestin, "and then, you have some the next day."
"Ah! they are better pocketed, are they?" said the artist. "Then I must try some."
And as the radishes were passed to Balivan a moment later, he seized a handful and put them in his pocket.
The first courses were discussed with great zest by the young men; but when the truffled turkey arrived, their enthusiasm had abated in some degree; Tobie alone seemed as hungry as ever, and filled his plate with truffles, crying:
"On my word, one can dine mighty well here!"