But the hen, who was again pecking, would not be denied; she dug her beak into the fig and carried it off, flapping her wings, so quick and so comical that Prada, and Pierre as well, laughed till tears came into their eyes, their merriment increasing at sight of the impotent fury of Santobono, who, for a moment, pursued the thief, threatening her with his fist.
"Ah!" said the Count, "that's what comes of not leaving the basket in the carriage.

If I hadn't warned you the hen would have eaten all the figs." The priest did not reply, but, growling out vague imprecations, placed the basket on the table, where he raised the leaves and artistically rearranged the fruit so as to fill up the void.

Then, the harm having been repaired as far as was possible, he at last calmed down.
It was now time for them to resume their journey, for the sun was sinking towards the horizon, and night would soon fall.

Thus the Count ended by getting impatient.

"Well, and those eggs ?" he called.
Then, as the woman did not return, he went to seek her.