He sniffs with Disgust.
The traitor listened with inward rage.
"What!" said he, "he has refused to eat it? It is probably because he is not hungry."
"So I suppose, Monsieur Lustucru; for your hash looks very nice. I should like it myself, and I’ve half a mind to taste it, to set Moumouth an example." At this, Father Lustucru, in spite of his hardness, could not help trembling. For a minute he was horrified at his crime, and cried hastily:—
"Don’t touch it, I beg of you."
"Don’t touch it, I beg of you!"
"Why not? Is there anything wrong in the hash?"
"No, certainly not," stammered Father Lustucru; "but what has been prepared for a cat should not serve for a Christian. It is necessary to guard propriety, and not trifle with the dignity of human nature."