"I understood: 'So that we may smell him plainly;'[B] and the pastry cook said: 'I never make holes in my pies; your parrot will be a little tough, but I'll just lard him and stuff him, so that no one will ever know what it is.'"

[B]

I said: 'pour qu'on l'entende bien.'
I understood: 'pour qu'on le sente bien.'

At that point, roars of laughter from Zizi, Roncherolle and Jéricourt made it impossible to hear the groans and lamentations of Alfred, who, in a fit of desperation, attempted to throw the pie at Beauvinet's head; but he was prevented, and Roncherolle said to him:

"As the harm is done, we must make the best of it; as I presume that no one here has ever eaten parrot pie, I suggest that we taste it."

"Yes, let us taste it," said Zizi. "I will tell this story at the theatre, and my comrades will have a good laugh at it."

"It doesn't make me laugh! the result of such long-continued toil; and just at the moment when I had finished his education, and when he began to talk so famously!"

"Will you have a little piece, Saint-Arthur?"

"I? never! but yes—just a taste.—That rascally pastry cook! he was quite right to say that no one would know what it was; but he will have to give me back the feathers, at least."

"Pouah! how nasty it is," said Zizi, pushing her plate away. "So tough that you can't chew it."