“But your house is not M. de Morcerf’s,” murmured Mercédès; “and since he has been here I have watched him.”
“Well?”
“Well, he has taken nothing yet.”
“The count is very temperate.”
Mercédès smiled sadly.
“Approach him,” said she, “and when the next waiter passes, insist upon his taking something.”
“But why, mother?”
“Just to please me, Albert,” said Mercédès. Albert kissed his mother’s hand, and drew near the count. Another salver passed, loaded like the preceding ones; she saw Albert attempt to persuade the count, but he obstinately refused. Albert rejoined his mother; she was very pale.
“Well,” said she, “you see he refuses?”
“Yes; but why need this annoy you?”