Monsieur—(Puts out his lips, buries his two front teeth, with marked disgust, in the paste, makes a horrible face and spits into the fireplace)—Eugh.
Madame—(still holding the spoon and with much interest) Well?
Monsieur—Well! it is awful! oh! awful! taste it.
Madame—(dreamily stirring the paste with the spoon, her little finger in the air)—I should never have believed that it was so nasty.
Monsieur—You will soon see for yourself, taste it, taste it.
Madame—I am in no hurry, I have plenty of time.
Monsieur—To see what it is like. Taste a little, come.
Madame—(pushing away the plate with a look of horror)—Oh! how you worry me. Be quiet, do; for a trifle I could hate you. It is disgusting, this paste of yours!