Pippand merely grunted in reply.
"He has the air of a discomfited lover!" remarked Buttrebeurrousse.
"I have lost my beloved," answered Pippand in a monotone. "And I consumed all the mushrooms."
"La belle Rosédès!" cried Buttrebeurrousse. "She's marrying Gamgès; isn't he the lucky dog!"
Pippand looked as if he were on the point of consuming himself - in flames, like Féanoir in the tragedy of Racine.
"Parbleu! You need cheering up," said Sacqueville-Danglars. "Come with us to Le pony prançant! I insist on bearing expenses for the drinks."
Pippand seemed utterly indifferent to this prospect, but mechanically allowed himself to be conducted to the bistro.
"My wine has been uncommonly good since Gandault put that spell on it," remarked Buttrebeurrousse, filling glasses for himself and his two friends. "Would you care for some fish?"
"So juicy sweet!" murmured Pippand, although it was unclear whether he meant the fish or Rosédès.
