"Here, boy, here--a good supper for you!"
The "boy" regarded her suspiciously for a moment, then came forward a step. She encouraged him with a kind word, and held the meat nearer, but, suspecting a trick, he backed growling. He had never seen a shoulder of lamb before except in a dream, and did not recognise the pink-and-white thing. He only recognised that they were strangers--probably knew them to be the mad Americans from Villa Duval. At any rate, after one long sniff he turned and walked sadly away. Val in a fury threw the lamb after him, but he never turned. Mournfully he slunk down the slope of the petit port to seek the garbage heaps in the river bed. As the three stood staring after him a little red-faced bonne came running out of the café.
"Qu'est ce qu'il y a, madame?" she cried. Val pointed to the meat lying in the dust.
"Take that and give it to a dog."
"But yes, madame; thank you, madame."
Smiling all over, she picked up the meat and dusted it carefully. They saw very well she did not mean to give it to a dog.
"It is not fit for human food," stammered Val, still shaking.
"But no, madame; thank you, madame."
She smiled and looked at it with fond eyes. Val could have struck her. On the Terrasse Haidee said:
"Val, how could you? It will be all over the town. Even the curé will know."