“Whatever are you eating?”
For some little while past she had been watching her. Adèle, dragging her shoes after her, turned clumsily round the table.
“Nothing, madame,” replied she.
“How! nothing! You’re chewing; I’m not blind. See! you’ve got your mouth full of it. Oh! it’s no use drawing in your cheeks; it’s easy to see in spite of that. And you’ve got some in your pocket, haven’t you?”
Adèle became confused, and tried to draw back. But Madame Josserand caught hold of her by the skirt.
“For a quarter of an hour past, I’ve been watching you take something out of there and thrust it under your nose, after hiding it in your hand. It must be something very good. Let me see what it is.”
She dived into the pocket in her turn, and withdrew a handful of cooked prunes. The juice was still trickling from them.
“What is this?” cried she furiously.
“Prunes, madame,” said the servant, who, seeing herself caught, became insolent.
“Ah! you eat my prunes! So that’s why they go so quickly and never again appear on the table! I could never have believed it possible; prunes! in a pocket!”