At last the upper crust was taken off, and nothing came out of the pie. They all put their heads forward to look inside; but instead of a living bird, they saw only what is always found in a chicken pie: jelly, and the stuffing around the principal piece, on top of which there was a slice of pork. Saint-Arthur was stupefied; his guests with difficulty restrained their desire to laugh. "What does this mean, Beauvinet? where is my bird, my parrot? what have you done with him?" "Your bird is there, monsieur; I did what you told me to: I carried him to the pastry cook, and told him to put him into the pie." "Ah! you villain! you miserable wretch! how could you fail to understand me? I told you that I only wanted the crust put around him." "Well, there is nothing but crust around him." "And I added: 'You must have holes made in the top to give him air, so that we may hear him plainly.'" "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 Jericourt 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." "And a certain flavor which is not exactly agreeable," said Jericourt. "The pastry cook did not disguise it quite enough." "Here, take all this away," said Roncherolle, handing the plate with the pie to Beauvinet; "and for your punishment, eat it!" "Yes, clear out with it, you stupid beast!" cried Saint-Arthur. "Off with you, and if I wasn't holding myself back--What an ass he is! I am sure that if one should tell him to take a dog to the pastry-cook he would have it made into a pie." Beauvinet took the pie under his arm, and angrily pulled his wig over his right ear, grumbling: "They don't know what they want; I do what they tell me to, and they ain't satisfied! Let them make their pies themselves after this." XLIII A DUEL