Piping Hot! by Émile Zola — Read

So soon as the fish was served, skate of doubtful freshness with black butter, which that bungler Adèle had drowned in a flood of vinegar, Hortense and Berthe, seated on the right and left of uncle Bachelard, incited him to drink, filling his glass one after the other, and repeating:

"It's your saint's-day, drink now, drink! Here's your health, uncle!"