Chérubin did not fully agree with his inamorata; he did not like rabbit himself, and he found that the breakfast which had been ordered for him did not at all resemble what he ordinarily ate at restaurants in Paris. But his companion was much less particular than he; she helped herself to the rabbit and seemed to enjoy it hugely; she even exclaimed from time to time: “It’s mighty well fricasseed!” Chérubin offered her some wine with a different seal. Chichette drank red as well as white, then uncovered another dish, and shouted, leaping up and down in her chair: “Ah! chowder! Oh! I’m glad of that! I’m so fond of chowder!” “It seems to me that she’s fond of everything!” thought Chérubin; “she certainly has been very well brought up; she doesn’t play the prude!” Chichette voted the chowder delicious; she helped herself several times without waiting for Chérubin to offer it; she was particularly enthusiastic over the sauce; finally she began to lick her plate, unwilling apparently to leave the least particle of the sauce which she liked so much. The young man was thunderstruck when he saw the Comtesse de Globeska put her plate to her mouth and run her tongue over it; but he concluded that custom in Poland permitted such behavior. When Chichette noticed that her companion was watching her, she realized that she had made a blunder, and instantly replaced her plate on the table, saying: “Oh! that was just a joke! I won’t ever do it again! But let’s see what’s under that other cover.” Chichette uncovered the last dish, which contained fried fish. She uttered a joyful exclamation: “Ah! gudgeons! fried gudgeons! Oh! I’m so fond of fried fish!” “I am delighted, madame, that you find all these things to your taste,” said Chérubin, serving his charmer to gudgeons; “but really you are not hard to suit; to me it seems that our breakfast is not worthy of you. Evidently there are no good restaurants in this quarter.” “Oh, yes, yes! at La Courtille.” “At La Courtille! I don’t know that place; did your husband take you there to dinner sometimes?” “My husband! Oh! let’s talk about something else. I’d like something to drink; gudgeons make you thirsty in a minute.” Chérubin hastened to supply his guest with a wine decorated with a different seal, which she drank and declared excellent. The young man would have liked to lead the conversation back to his love, but his conquest was so busily engaged in eating and drinking that he dared not divert her from an occupation in which she seemed to take so much pleasure; and then he recalled his breakfast with Madame Célival and said to himself: “I ate heartily to drive away my bashfulness. Perhaps this pretty Pole is doing the same; but God grant that she doesn’t end as I did!”