“Madame, you know very well that I am not in the habit of carving.” “You may do as you choose, monsieur.” “Do you refuse to carve it, madame?” “Yes, monsieur.” “Will you do it--once, twice?” “No, monsieur.” “In that case, as it is foolish to make the landlord a present of it----” I took up the dish and threw the chicken out of the window. My wife involuntarily gave a little shriek. I walked to the window, for I noticed that the violin had stopped. I saw that the little Savoyard had just picked up the chicken, and fearing doubtless that someone would come out to get it, he hastily threw his violin over his shoulder, concealed the bird under his jacket, and ran across the Champs-Elysées as if the devil were at his heels. At that sight I was unable to keep a sober face; I burst into a roar of laughter, which increased in volume when I saw that the little violinist ran faster than ever on seeing me at the window. Madame was unable to resist the desire to see what had become of the chicken. She saw the little fellow’s performance, and bit her lips to avoid laughing; but when I turned toward her, she could hold out no longer; she followed my example. Nothing restores concord so quickly as laughter; disputes rarely take place between laughter-loving people. We had drawn near to each other, having both left the table to go to the window. I do not know how it happened, but I soon found Eugénie in my arms; then we kissed, we walked away from the window, and---- Once more the door was opened, this time without rattling the knob. That waiter was fated to do everything awkwardly; he never guessed right! Eugénie, red as a cherry, hastily moved away from me, but not so quickly that the waiter, who had seen us close together, did not instantly disappear with the macaroni, muttering: “Beg pardon! you are not ready. Besides, I don’t think the cheese is cooked enough.” He closed the door. I ran after Eugénie, who murmured: “Mon Dieu! what will that waiter think?” I confess that that question worried me very little, and in a few minutes I think that Eugénie forgot it too. I had to ring to get the macaroni. The waiter came at last; but he hummed and talked to himself upon the landing before touching the knob; then he fumbled over it for five minutes. All the time that he was in the room, my wife kept her eyes down and dared not move or speak. She was not used to such occasions. I ordered the dessert and the champagne. We ended our dinner much more gaily than the beginning of it would have led one to think. I swore to Eugénie twenty times over that I had ceased to see Lucile long before I had married her. She recovered her amiability; she took nothing but biscuit and champagne, but she declared that it was very pleasant to dine in a private room, and I promised her that we would do it again.