David bowed again and left the dining-room.
After the departure of the preceptor, Jacques Bastien, entirely unconscious of his coarseness, sat down to the table, for he was very hungry in spite of the anger he nursed against his wife and son.
Each one took his place.
Jacques Bastien had Bridou on his right, Frederick on his left, and Marie sat opposite.
The anxiety of the young woman made her seek to change the subject of conversation constantly; she feared Jacques might discover the absence of the silver plate.
This revelation, however, hung upon a new incident.
Jacques Bastien, removing the cover from the soup tureen, dilated his wide nostrils, so as to inhale the aroma of the cabbage soup he had ordered, but, finding his expectation mistaken, he cried furiously, addressing his wife:
"What! no cabbage soup? and I wrote to you expressly that I wanted it. Perhaps there is no leg of mutton with cloves either?"
"I do not know, monsieur, I forgot to—"
"By God's thunder, what a woman,—there!" cried Jacques, furiously, throwing the tureen cover down on the table so violently that it broke in pieces.