"You must agree, monsieur le baron, that those animals have changed greatly in their disposition."
"Never mind; I love everything that recalls those days of innocence. When I look at this hen walking on our table, and this duck splashing in the mud at our feet, I fancy that I am living in the Age of Gold. Not until I feel in my pocket do I realize the delusion."
Unluckily, the eggs in the omelet were not fresh, and the wine was sour; Ménard made a wry face at every mouthful and every swallow, while Dubourg said:
"I know of no healthier food than an omelet. Whatever country you travel in, wherever you may be, if there are eggs, you have an omelet! Everybody knows how to make it; it's a universal dish, the dish of nature."
"If only the eggs were fresh!"
"Faith! this little taste of straw isn't unpleasant; at need, it will take the place of tarragon. And this wine—at all events, I'll guarantee that it won't do us any harm."
"It's infernally sour!"
"A proof that it's unadulterated."
Despite all that Dubourg could say to make Ménard approve of the breakfast, the tutor said, as they left the table:
"I think that we must go to hunt up Monsieur Frédéric de Montreville."