They were all speaking at once, some complaining, some joking. At a corner of the table, against the wall, Deloche was silently eating. He was afflicted with an enormous appetite, which he had never been able to satisfy, and not earning enough to afford any extras, he cut himself enormous chunks of bread, and swallowed up the least savoury platefuls, with an air of greediness. They all laughed at him, crying: “Favier, pass your skate to Deloche. He likes it like that. And your meat, Hutin; Deloche wants it for his dessert.”
The poor fellow shrugged his shoulders, and did not even reply. It wasn't his fault if he was dying of hunger. Besides, the others might abuse the food as much as they liked, they swallowed it up all the same.
But a low whistling stopped their talk; Mouret and Bourdoncle were in the corridor. For some time the complaints had become so frequent that the principals pretended to come and judge for themselves the quality of the food. They gave thirty sous a head per day to the chief cook, who had to pay everything, provisions, coal, gas, and staff, and they displayed a naïve astonishment when the food was not good. This very morning even, each department had deputed a spokesman. Mignot and Liénard had undertaken to speak for their comrades. And in the sudden silence, all ears were stretched out to catch the conversation going on in the next room, where Mouret and Bourdoncle had just entered. The latter declared the beef excellent; and Mignot, astounded by this quiet affirmation, was repeating, “But chew it, and see;” whilst Liénard, attacking the skate, was gently saying, “But it stinks, sir!” Mouret then launched into a cordial speech: he would do everything for his employees' welfare, he was their father, and would rather eat dry bread than see them badly fed.
“I promise you to look into the matter,” said he in conclusion, raising his voice so that they should hear it from one end of the passage to the other.
The inquiry being finished, the noise of the knives and forks commenced once more. Hutin muttered “Yes, reckon on that, and drink water! Ah, they're not stingy of soft words. Want some promises, there you are! And they continue to feed you on old boot-leather, and to chuck you out like dogs!”
The salesman who had already questioned him repeated: “You say that Robineau——”
But a noise of heavy crockery-ware drowned his voice. The men changed their plates themselves, and the piles at both ends were diminishing. When a kitchen-help brought in some large tin dishes, Hutin cried out: “Baked rice! this is a finisher!”
“Good for a penn'orth of gum!” said Favier, serving himself.
Some liked it, others thought it too sticky. There were some who remained quite silent, plunged in the fiction of their newspaper, not even knowing what they were eating. They were all mopping their foreheads, the narrow cellar-like apartment was full of a ruddy steam, whilst the shadows of the passers-by were continually passing in black bands over the untidy cloth.
“Pass Deloche the bread,” cried out one of the wags.